


Shadow Of Death

by Glenjamin_Batthew



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone's queer because I said so, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, It's gonna have a happy ending just wait, Multi, Mutual Pining, No Apocalypse, No beta we kayak like Tim, Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, POV Martin Blackwood, POV Sasha James, POV Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, Psychological Horror, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Texting, The Extinction, The power of friendship, Tim and Sasha are best friends, background Melanie/Georgie - Freeform, background dasira, familiar characters will come into play differently, i am making it up as i go, season one squad, speed run of seasons 2-4, starts in season one and then differs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 70,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glenjamin_Batthew/pseuds/Glenjamin_Batthew
Summary: Starting towards the end of season one, what would happen if a new avatar took precedence over the Prentiss-related threat? A butterfly-effect of small changes causes immense differences down the line...This is a happy ending AU where the s1 squad survives and the Extinction might actually help avert the apocalypse.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 42
Kudos: 84





	1. Routine - Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first real attempt at a fic or au of any kind, and I am very excited to share! Please don't hesitate to comment and let me know your thoughts and opinions!

Jon was a creature of habit. Every morning after he woke, he took a shower, drank a cup of coffee, toasted a bagel, and was out the door of his flat by 7 o’clock. He ate his bagel as he walked to the trolley, always finished by the time he had to endure being near other people. He never spoke to anyone and used the time to make sure he was completely awake and ready for work. When he was a researcher, he would make sure to refamiliarize himself with whatever case he would be working on that morning, but now, as the head archivist, he instead recalled where he left off in his recordings and tried to remember which cases he had assigned to each of his assistants.

His assistants. He liked that. He was initially concerned when Elias asked him to take the position, as he wasn’t entirely sure what it entailed, but reading statements aloud, organizing things, and delegating the hard work to subordinates was actually easier than he had thought the job was going to be. This was especially true with Tim helping him, who he had known for a couple of years in research, and Sasha, who he hadn’t known as well since she had worked in artefact storage, but was impressed by her competence. Martin was the newest of them, a last-minute addition by Elias who claimed that three assistants was traditional. This Martin had never worked in research, as he was from the library, and despite Sasha's comments to the contrary, he was obviously the least experienced of the four of them. That much was evident.

Jon had been Head Archivist for months now, and while he had been hoping to get comfortable in the position the longer he had it, the opposite was actually true. The institute had never been a friendly place, per se, and the subject matter was always disturbing; these were givens. But since he had started working in the archives he was often uneasy. He constantly felt as if he were being watched or judged, even though he had his own office and Elias rarely came to check on him, though it was always a surprise when he did. It put him slightly on edge and made him sit up straighter in his chair, which then gave him back pain, which then made him even tenser and grumpier. Really, it was a dreadful cycle, but how could he complain? The atmosphere was bad, not the work itself. Besides, it was still technically a promotion, and it came with a raise.

Of course, the truly troubling things were not about the job itself, but the unusual things he could discover during his work. He knew that most of the people who came in to give statements were liars or attention-seekers. Or at least, he earnestly hoped this was the case. Every time Sasha or Tim came back with some shred of solid proof that a supernatural phenomenon had occurred, Jon felt a year tick off his life. He thought his hair must turn visibly greyer every time Tim said, “Good news, Boss!” and threw a folder onto his desk, as it was never truly good news, but proof that someone really had seen some sort of unpleasant creature, or had witnessed someone die, or hadn’t imagined an unexplained power outage. To make matters worse, Martin had given his own statement recently, and Jon didn’t have the ability to call him a liar, as he had received the proof in the form of texts from a reportedly horrific woman associated with worms… Poor Martin was now staying in the institute, which meant Jon rarely did so anymore. Not that he preferred to sleep in that dreadful place, but he often worked late into the night and disliked traveling back home alone in the dark if he could help it. The threat of worms didn’t help his nerves, and Martin’s near frantic stockpiling of fire extinguishers when he thought Jon wasn’t looking was making him more and more nervous. There was likely to be a tipping point soon.

Jon was reminiscing about this and his experiences so far at the institute as he got ready for work one particular morning. It was not a pleasant topic to think about as he got ready, and he found himself zoning out a bit. It didn’t help that he hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before, either. He had just read Jane Prentiss’s statement the day before, and nightmares about the supernatural had kept him awake for hours. He was out the door slightly later than usual and tried his best to hurry without forgetting anything, running a hand through his hair and grimacing at how long it was getting. He likely looked shaggy, which just wouldn’t do. After he was already out the door and down the street, he realized he had forgotten to get his bagel out of the toaster. His face crumpled when he remembered this, and his footsteps faltered. He didn’t exactly want to go in to work without having eaten, as he was sure reading a statement on an empty stomach would make him nauseous, but he also didn’t want to risk being late by buying food somewhere. He knew there was a coffee shop near the trolly stop, so he hastily decided to run in and get whatever pastry they had readily available.

Jon was anxious. Deviating from a plan was uncomfortable, but changing up his morning routine, which he had been following for years now, was nearly unthinkable. It wasn’t as if he had never forgotten his breakfast or his bag before, but it never made it any easier to handle. Thankfully, the shop was nearly empty when he arrived, just a couple patrons sitting quietly at one of the two small tables within the entrance. Jon made his way to the front to order, and didn’t notice the figure standing right in his way until he had already bumped into them.

“Oh, my apologies.” He sputtered before he even turned to look at them fully. They were tall, taller than him, and they did not budge from their position in the shop. Jon knew, logically, that he was at fault for not watching where he was going, but usually, people shifted when someone collided with them. He finally looked at their face after taking a step back, only to discover a hooded shawl covering most of the figure, whose back was to him. He could make out the dark skin of their cheek and not much else of their face. Thinking it best to simply move on when they didn’t acknowledge him, he continued to the counter.

The hooded figure was facing forward, and the employee behind the counter, a young woman with red hair, was staring intently at them. Jon waited a moment to see if either of them would speak, but they seemed to be engaged in a staring contest. Jon looked back at the tall individual. Their face was sharp and stoic, displaying no emotion as they gazed levelly ahead. The shawl they wore was long, fringed, and dull gray. They appeared extremely out of place, though nothing about them was strictly wrong. A slight whimper from behind him made Jon whip his head back around. The girl with red hair had a pained expression on her face, and Jon noted with mounting concern that her eyes were rimmed with red. She seemed to be in extreme distress.

“Excuse me, are you alright?” He asked, not quite able to keep his voice from shaking. The woman did not respond, but Jon was becoming acutely aware of how off the shop felt. The air was tense and quiet, the patrons seated at the entrance were motionless, and as Jon turned to once more look at the employee behind the counter, he saw that her bloodshot eyes were not red from emotion, but were filling with blood as if they were tears. A fat red drop finally spilled free and ran thickly down her cheek, and that was all it took for Jon to run out of the shop. 

Jon was sticking with knowns from now on. Straying from habits was bad. Very bad. All he had to do was get to the institute, then he could lock himself away in his office and try to calm down. The others would notice if he was late. Tim would crack a joke, Sasha would reprimand him and say it was none of his business, and Martin would interrupt their bickering to earnestly ask Jon if he was okay, and he was certainly not okay at the moment.

He managed to get on the trolly just before it passed, and he allowed himself to take a long deep breath. He attempted to keep his composure in the presence of others, though his heart and mind were racing. The rest of his commute was a blur. He became aware again as he headed down the stairs of the institute and through the doors to the main room of the archives. Unfortunately for him, Tim was already there, seated in the open space at a desk with his feet propped up on it. Jon twitched at the sight, but as it was, he walked right past him with a simple nod in his direction before disappearing into the safety of his office.


	2. Office Gossip - Tim

“Have you seen Jon today?” Tim asked, leaning over his desk to look more intently at Martin. Martin’s wide eyes immediately darted up from the statement he had been reading, and Tim mused that he looked rather like a deer caught in headlights.

“No, why?” He asked cautiously, attempting to look back down at the statement, though Tim knew he already had his full attention.

“No real reason. He was just kind of weird this morning. Very brisk and in a hurry.” Sasha huffed at that, and Tim turned to peek at her, sitting at her own desk, her brown skin illuminated by her laptop screen.

“I dunno, Tim. That sounds normal enough to me.” She said, though her voice housed some curiosity as well.

“Yeah, well I know he’s usually such a charmer, but he seemed kinda spooked. Plus he hasn’t come out of his office at all. It’s been like, hours. He usually comes out once by now, even if it’s just to yell at Martin.” Martin reddened at that, which was not a difficult reaction to pull from him. Just saying the poor man’s name was usually enough to make him blush.

“Do you think he’s alright?” Martin asked, glancing over at the closed door to Jon’s office determinedly. Tim knew what was about to happen and turned to mouth the words to Sasha.

“I think I’ll make some tea.” Martin said, right on que, and Sasha gave Tim a withering look before focusing back on her laptop. Martin was already up and away, his own research forgotten. Tim was always impressed by how quickly Martin could move. He was always in one place or another a lot faster than seemed possible. Once he had gone towards the break room, Tim turned back to Sasha.

“Do you like pushing him towards disaster?” Sasha asked without looking up.

“What? No, this isn’t my amazing matchmaking skills at work, he really seemed out of sorts when he came in. I had my feet up on the desk and he didn’t even make a snide remark!” He protested. Sasha seemed to weigh her work versus this new information in her mind, eventually deciding that Tim’s possible gossip was more interesting. She closed her laptop and looked back at him.

“Do we need an intervention, or do you think he’s a pod person?” She asked, her tone suggesting utter sincerity. Tim smiled as he leaned back into his chair.

“Oh, definitely pod person.” Tim quickly replied. “It’s less work for us, too. You have to talk to a person who’s having a hard time, but you can just zap a pod person with a laser and ‘poof.’”

“You want Jon to go ‘poof?’” Sasha asked with a laugh. “I didn’t realize how badly you wanted me to be archivist.”

“Oh, I think you did.” Tim replied with a smirk. Sasha grumbled something incoherent and waved Tim’s comment away, as she always did.

“Well, I know Martin’s going to be checking on him in a minute, but I’ve done all I can with follow-up for this statement, so I think I’m gonna pass it in for him to record.” She said, tucking the papers back into their folder and standing.

“What did he have you working on this time?” Tim asked, partway between genuinely curious and trying to avoid his own work. He had been given the rather impossible case of one Daniel Delaney, and he was not keen on running into more dead ends.

“It was a pretty tragic case, actually. This young girl came and gave this account in the late nineties about a vision of her own death, and it hasn’t been looked at until now. She died exactly when and how she thought she would.” Sasha said, her dark eyes downcast as if deep in thought. Tim grimaced.

“Ooh, what a great start to the day.” He commiserated. “Mine’s just about some guy who hallucinated and moved out of his house.”

“Wow, I think Jon’s picking favourites.” She said, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, we know you’re his favourite, Sash. No need to rub it in.” Tim said with mock hurt, one hand clutching his heart and the other draped across his forehead. “The length of our relationship means nothing in the face of your competence.” He continued, putting on a theatrical tone to his words.

“Well I wish his favour meant less gruesome statements.” She scoffed, hitting him lightly with the folder in her hands.

“Less gruesome? You might be in the wrong place.” To his delight, Sasha laughed at that.

“I’ll be right back.” She said as she crossed behind him towards Jon’s office. Tim sat contentedly for a moment, basking in his ability to make his favourite people laugh before looking back down at his own work.


	3. Archivist - Sasha

“Well that was a disaster.” Tim scoffed as he sat back at his desk. Sasha had her head propped up in one hand at her desk but picked it up to look at him as he plopped into his chair and sighed heavily.

“Why, what did he say?” She asked, craning her neck to look at Jon’s closed office door as if the answers would be there.

“He said “No.” He won’t re-record anything.” Tim said with a forced smile.

“Ugh. Did he say why?” Sasha pressed, closing her laptop. 

“He’s too busy. Don’t you know how busy and important he is?” Tim remarked, his annoyance coming through undiluted.

“Okay, well, it’s his fault if people get upset about it, not yours. You let him know about the issues. How he chooses to deal with it is on him.” She explained patiently, hoping to ease Tim’s obviously sour mood. It didn’t appear to be working. “Besides, we work here too. We could always record his bad statements ourselves.” Tim looked at her incredulously.

“You seriously want me to waste my time reading a statement aloud? That’s what he’s for.” He said with a hand waved toward their boss’s general direction.

“I mean, I could do it.” Sasha suggested with a shrug. Tim looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, but then fell into a goofy smile instead.

“Well I’d certainly rather hear your voice than his when I’m forced to listen.” He said with as much charm as he could muster. Sasha rolled her eyes.

“Of course you would. Now hand me that stack.” She said, and she stretched out a manicured hand. Tim immediately frowned.

“No, Sash, you’ve got plenty of work on your plate already. You don’t actually need to pick up his slack.” Tim said, cradling the folders to his chest protectively.

“We’re all in this together, Tim. I can help.” She said diplomatically. “Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have good reason to be stressed.” She said, and Tim cocked his head to the side.

“We’re all stressed, Sash. We all have to deal with the weird vibes, and the worms, and boss-man’s general demeanor. Martin has it the worst out of all of us.” He said, starting to get animated. Sasha knew she had to shut this down fast before he really got into his ranting.

“Okay, just put them over here on the table between us and we’ll see if any of us has time to go through them.” She suggested. As she had hoped, Tim didn’t have an argument for that, and he obeyed silently.

The rest of the day passed without incident, and Tim was ready to leave as soon as five o’clock rolled around. He slid up to Sasha’s desk with his never-ending energy and ran a hand through his curly hair as soon as she looked at him.

“Want to go out for drinks?” He asked, still in his ridiculous pose with his hand buried in his hair. She huffed a laugh and couldn’t repress her smile, saving her notes and closing her laptop.

“I’ll pass. I want to catch up on some sleep tonight.” She said, and Tim dropped his pose. “I’d be down for Friday night, though.” She said, wanting to reassure him that she wasn’t completely blowing him off.

“Right, you rest up. You deserve it.” He said, reaching his arms out for a quick hug before running up to Martin’s desk.

“Drinks?” He asked, and Martin shrugged.

“Sure.” He said, putting on his coat. “But only ‘cause Sasha stood you up.” He continued, revealing just a tad of that teasing nature he tended to hide. Tim reacted exactly as expected, backing away as if shot.

“You wound me. She would never.” He replied, turning to Sasha for confirmation. She laughed at their antics and started heading for the door as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

“You two have fun.” She called over her shoulder. Tim and Martin waved congenially before slowly following out behind her. Thankfully, Tim didn’t seem to notice that the statements with mistakes were missing from the table.

Sasha felt rather silly with the tape recorder. She knew for a fact that her laptop wouldn’t be able to hold the statements, as these were some of the more stubborn ones, as Jon called them, but it still felt strange to be sitting with all these work things in her own flat. She knew she was doing Jon a huge favor by recording them accurately, and she also knew that Tim would be both annoyed and pleased that she had gone ahead and done it without him knowing, but she honestly wasn’t doing it for either of them. She appreciated the attention to detail as much, if not more than, the rest of them. Well, probably not more than Tim, on second thought. 

Sasha didn’t resent Jon, but she did sometimes wonder how things would be different if she had been appointed head archivist. She knew more about library science than any of them in the archives, apart maybe from Martin, and though Jon seemed comfortable acting as a boss, he wasn’t as comfortable acting as an archivist. Sasha wondered if she would’ve staffed the archives the same way he had. Tim was a definite, as she trusted him and loved having him around, though she knew he was happiest in research where he could put more time into his own investigation on his brother. Martin hadn’t been there for as long as the rest of them and it was quite obvious that he had no desire to be there. Sasha thought he was alright, a little shy and a bit of a pushover, but he had a good sense of humor and a kind heart. Nevertheless, she would’ve much rather have pulled her old friend Sonja out of the mess that was artifact storage to help her in the mess that was the basement of the institute. Jon had been a good researcher, and that was honestly where he shone. He was slightly squeamish with some of the grislier or spider-related cases, but he was diligent and focused, which was nice. She thought they were really rather similar in their skeptical approach to their line of work, and she appreciated his candor.

After a moment, she shook herself out of her archivist daydreams and back to reality. She was sitting on her couch with the statements on the cushion beside her, and a tape recorder balanced on her knee. She had already finished recording statements 0092302 and 0020312 and was for some reason quite exhausted. Maybe she really did need to catch up on some sleep like she had told Tim. She checked her phone to see a couple of texts from him, mostly pictures of him and Martin at a bar. Martin was obviously holding Tim up, both of their smiles huge and their eyes bright, and she scoffed. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she reached under her braids to rub the back of her neck as she turned instinctively to look behind her. The window was open, so it must have been a cool breeze that gave her shivers. She stood suddenly and crossed to close it, wasting no time in pulling the curtain over the glass as well. She stood there for a second in uneasy anticipation of something before deciding it was time for bed.


	4. Hopeless - Martin

Martin couldn’t sleep. He rolled onto his side for the hundredth time that night, hoping that this would be his last conscious action before morning, but alas, he was still willing himself to fall asleep. It’s not like anyone could blame him, his current situation wasn’t exactly comfortable, but when had it ever been? At least his flat had a bed with a real mattress rather than the thin imitation of one he had been dealing with on this cot for the last couple of months. Had it really been that long? It still didn’t feel normal having to put up with this. No other workplace had hazards like ‘you might have to sleep in the storage room for your safety’ as part of the deal. He contemplated just telling Jon that he quit, but he couldn’t bear to leave Tim, and Sasha, and yes, even Jon, alone to deal with the worms, especially now that there was no way anyone could convince him that these occurrences weren’t supernatural. Martin was the best at spotting them, even if that did entail a few false alarms. He wanted to keep his coworkers, and at the moment, his only friends, safe from the danger he had brought upon them.

With a frustrated and exhausted groan, Martin sat up and slipped out from the covers. His mind was much too active for him to fool himself into thinking he’d be getting any more sleep tonight; an hour would have to do. At least he didn’t have to make a commute anymore, he thought dryly. It was still dark outside, he knew, though there were no windows in the archives for him to confirm this through. No need to get ready for work yet. Jon wouldn’t be here for a couple more hours, at least.

He stretched his limbs out and felt a couple satisfying pops and cracks before settling and yawning widely. He stood and grabbed his sweatpants from off the back of the chair of the desk that was situated uncomfortably close to the cot. This room was painfully small. He grabbed the sweater he had worn the day before from the duffel bag he kept his clothes in and headed out, deciding that a nice walk in the brisk cold would be a good way to wake him up fully if his body was so hard-set against sleeping.

It was warmer than Martin would have liked it to be outside, but it was still better to get some fresh air than to continuously sit in the stagnant archives. It was light enough to see unassisted by the time he got out there, and he was eager to put some distance between himself and the tall, imposing building at his back. To his disgust and horror, he noticed one of the silvery worms writhing by his feet on the pavement and promptly stomped on it. Recoiling from the squelching noise it made, he quickly made his way to a patch of grass to wipe the worm guts off his shoe. What a perfectly expected start to the day. Martin sighed to himself and began to walk down the street to the nearby park. He was not expecting to see many, if any, other people out at this time, as those who stayed up late had finally gone to sleep and the early birds had yet to rise. This was Martin’s favorite time; his personal time when the world was his and no one else’s. The sky always began to create such beautiful colors, the first rays of sunlight reflecting onto the clouds in predictable but no less enjoyable ways. He was beginning to allow the contentment to wash over him, smelling the air and raking in the sight of the city asleep.

Martin, though he did enjoy his alone time, did sometimes feel lonely. It was sort of hard to, now, with Jon and the other assistants frequently buzzing around the area where he spent the majority of his time, but it was still there. He didn’t feel it very often, and usually it was more of a comfort than a burden, but as he walked down the street, he began to feel a pang of sadness well up from out of nowhere. It started in the back of his throat and caught him so off-guard that he thought for a moment that he might choke. His pace faltered as he tried to fight the overwhelming sense of dread overtaking him. He looked up at the sky, hoping to calm himself with the sight of the drifting clouds, but all he saw when he looked up was a vast stretch of abused ozone. There was no beauty to be found there, only proof that he was alone, and this whole world was utterly doomed. He panicked for a moment at the thought and was briefly startled out of his unexpected trance by the sight of another person walking toward him.

They appeared to be a tall black woman, face calm and young, though their garb made them seem older. They had a simple shapeless dress on, and a tattered gray shawl with a hood wrapped tightly around their shoulders and head. Martin tried to breathe through the panic he was feeling, not wanting to seem like he was obviously having a breakdown in public, but the feeling only swelled as the individual came closer. He couldn’t identify what made this figure seem out of place to him, but their level gaze held no malevolence as they passed him by with a simple glance. As soon as they had passed him, Martin began to relax, and after a moment he was able to breathe properly again. He looked back behind him with curiosity, but the figure was just strolling down in the direction Martin had been coming from.

Shaking off the last remnants of whatever strange panic attack had come over him, Martin continued all the way to the park before deciding to head back to the institute and make some tea before Jon arrived.

The sun was up in earnest now, and Martin was too warm in the sweater he wore. He was already planning on washing up the best he could and changing in the archive’s bathroom as he did nowadays. Mentally putting together an outfit in his head with what clean clothes he knew he had left, he was nearly too preoccupied to notice the prickling feeling of being watched as he approached the institute doors. The feeling was familiar in the archives, but not so much on the street, apart from the normal recognition of passerby. Quickly glancing around, he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and was about to push his way through the doors when he heard a familiar voice.

“Martin!” He turned to see Jon walking toward him. He wore a navy button-down shirt and tan trousers, and Martin marveled at how nice the deep blue looked against his brown skin. Jon began hurrying his pace when Martin returned his wave. “Hold the door?” He asked, and Martin reached out to do so. 

Martin opened the door and was somewhat disappointed to see that Jon had a distinctly bothered expression on his face. He was beginning to think that catching Jon in a good mood was more of a miracle than he could hope for, and wondered what he had already done to anger the man. To his surprise though, it didn’t seem to be Martin that was upsetting him. Jon slowed as he approached the doors and spun around rather abruptly. His eyes darted around the street, and Martin followed his gaze with curiosity. To his surprise, he noticed the person with the shawl that he had passed earlier was standing not far from the edge of the building, staring up at the windows with calculated interest. Jon found them not long after Martin did and visibly tensed. Without a word, he zipped into the institute, as Martin had still been holding the door open, and Martin quickly followed suit. He wondered briefly if the person outside was looking to make a statement, as someone with such gloomy energy was likely in need of a good chat and a cup of tea, and despite his earlier encounter, Martin would have been happy to oblige.

Martin hadn’t exactly expected Jon to walk amicably down to the archives with him, but as it was where they were both heading, he found it rather strange that Jon had decided to race down ahead of him without any hesitation. Martin followed with many thoughts racing through his mind. Jon had reacted as if he recognized the person with the shawl, and Martin could only speculate what kind of relationship they must have – or have had – to make Jon react in such a way.

Jon had already closed himself away in his office when Martin got down there. He was more than a little worried about him, and once he was dressed, he made his tea as planned and brought an extra mug for Jon. He knocked on the office door and waited for an invitation in, not knowing if Jon had already started recording. Martin heard a muffled ‘come in’ and entered slowly. Jon was sitting at his desk with his head in his hand, and his left leg was bouncing idly. He looked up from his desk as Martin approached and scrambled to move some papers and place his coaster before Martin set the steaming mug down. There was no sign of the panic from earlier, but Martin knew better than to think it had been nothing.

“How are you doing today?” He started cautiously, and Jon shrugged.

“Fine, thank you. Did you sleep well?” He asked, and Martin glumly remembered tossing and turning again.

“No, not really.” He said, and Jon frowned at him. Martin waited a moment and contemplated leaving, but he was too curious to just drop it without trying. “Did you know them?” He asked, too tired to try and force anymore polite conversation. Jon seemed taken aback by his straightforward question, or maybe he was just confused.

“Who?” He asked, looking at the statements on his desk rather than Martin. Martin sighed. Sometimes talking to Jon was like pulling teeth.

“The person outside, with the shawl and the weird dress. Do you know them?” He inquired again. Jon stilled, revealing his movements to be nothing more than attempts to keep his hands busy. Thankfully, he didn’t try to play dumb.

“Ah – No. I don’t know them.” He said, and oddly enough, despite his reaction, Martin believed him. He always felt a sense of unexpected relief when Jon confided in him or had a pleasant thing to say. It reminded him he was a whole person, rather than just his boss who was unimpressed with his work ethic.

“But you reacted strangely when you saw them.” He continued, not ready to let the topic drop.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Martin. I don’t know who they are, and quite frankly, I don’t care to.” He said briskly. All Martin wanted in that moment was for Jon to look at him and pay attention to what he was saying. For a man who read long-winded and often personal stories all day, he was absolute trash at communicating with real people.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, wondering if he would have to make another statement in order to get Jon’s full attention. Finally, Jon looked up at him, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. His hair was getting a bit long and unruly, but it wasn’t quite long enough to put up, so the graying black strands just floated around his face, framing it rather nicely…

“Tell me what? You haven’t had another encounter with Prentiss, have you?” He asked, genuine concern in his voice. Martin shook his head.

“No, but it might have been supernatural.” He stammered. “That person, outside, the one you recognized,” He started, and he pressed on when Jon looked like he was going to object, “I saw them while I was out walking around this morning.” Jon still looked like he wanted to protest, but something got the better of him and he held back.

“And?” He pressed, as rigidly as he could. Something about his demeanor had changed though, and he looked apprehensive.

“Well, I was out walking, and I rather like the sunrise, so I was enjoying myself, but suddenly I was overwhelmed by this feeling of, of intense sadness, and dread, like unbelievable hopelessness.” Jon still looked rather uneasy, but he stayed silent.

“When I looked around, the only other person on the street was that tall figure, and as they walked by me the feeling got worse and worse until it was nearly unbearable, and then it just faded as they got farther away.” He said, glad Jon seemed to be taking him seriously.

“I didn’t even notice that they had stopped outside the institute until you spun around and saw them.” Jon hummed thoughtfully, resting his chin on his hands. “I think they might want to give a statement.” He said helpfully, but Jon just scoffed.

“More likely we’ll have someone in shortly to give a statement about them.” He replied quietly, more to himself than Martin, whose eyes widened as he said this.

“You do know something about them! I knew it!” He exclaimed proudly, much to Jon’s obvious displeasure. At least he believed him again. Two for two.

“Oh, keep your voice down.” He chided, and Martin scoffed at him.

“No one else is here!” He objected. “Just tell me what happened. You can trust me.” He added, trying to coax Jon into a comfortable sharing mood. Surprisingly it seemed to work, and Jon turned in his chair to gesture to the table in the back of the room. Intrigued, Martin followed and sat as instructed as Jon got up and grabbed his tape recorder off his desk. Martin watched him pull open a drawer and produce a tape, both items which he then brought over to Martin. Jon sat in the chair opposite him at the table and sat expectantly.

“Do you want me to listen to this?” Martin asked hesitantly. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on.

“Not at this exact moment, if you can stand to be patient.” He snapped, and it was Martin’s turn to frown at him.

“I – okay, I have seen that individual before, but I’m not sure I remember all the details and I certainly don’t feel like trying to call it to mind right now, so you can take a listen to that tape if you absolutely must know.” He said, and Martin looked down at it in wonder. Jon had made a statement for himself, by himself. Martin wondered at how lonely that must have been for him. When Martin himself had come in, he had Tim and Sasha to comfort him and he got to tell Jon about the whole thing. It hadn’t made his experience any better, but it was nice to feel that people cared about him and were taking measures to ensure his safety. No one had done that for Jon after whatever this was. Martin grabbed the recorder and the tape immediately before Jon could change his mind.

“Thanks.” He said, not wanting to overwhelm Jon with more words or sincerity. This seemed to be the right move, as Jon nodded as if Martin had guessed the correct answer on a quiz. Martin decided it was best not to overstay his welcome and promptly got up to leave. Jon moved back to his desk, a sign that the day would now progress as normal.

“Don’t forget to do your actual work apart from listening to that.” Jon called as Martin was nearly out the door, and Martin merely rolled his eyes and made an emphatic “Mmhmm!” As he closed Jon’s door behind him.


	5. Monday - Tim

Tim was in a remarkably good mood. There was no real reason for his jovial attitude apart from him coming back from a fun and much-needed weekend of doing absolutely nothing. After he, Sasha, and Martin had gone out on Friday, he mostly forgot his current grief with Jon’s stubbornness. Though he was often put off by Jon’s blunt demeanor, he didn’t hate the guy, and if he was in a good mood it made it all the more fun to poke at Jon’s bristly exterior. It was especially fun when Tim’s infectious laugh or smile managed to pierce that exterior. He walked into the archives whistling and carrying a tray of drinks he had picked up, a sure sign that he was ready to cause trouble. As usual, he was the last one in. It was nigh-impossible to beat Jon there, as he had miraculously managed the week before, and it was actually impossible to beat Martin since he lived there, the poor man, so it was really just a toss-up as to whether he or Sasha would arrive first.

Speaking of Sasha, she was sitting at her desk with a somewhat familiar stack of files next to her laptop. He saw that she was sending some emails as he approached, apparently informing the students and researchers who had noticed the discrepancies that the audio recordings and supplemental research had been updated.

“My god, did Jon actually rerecord those?” He asked, wondering if his day could get any better. Sasha jumped slightly at his sudden appearance, brown eyes wide.

“Oh, god, hi Tim. Uh, no, I did, actually. It wasn’t nearly as bad as you were moaning about, either.” She said, patting the thick stack of papers with pride.

“And I think you’re right, my voice is substantially more suited for this than Jon’s.” She fake-whispered conspiratorially. “But don’t tell him that. His drama-kid tendencies will flare up.” Tim laughed incredulously and placed her drink in front of her, earning him a ‘ _how did you know I needed this_ ’ kind of smile. He glanced around for Martin as he made his way to his own desk.

“Where’s our favorite man?” He asked, nodding towards the empty seat.

“Oh, I saw him for a second this morning. He said he had something to do, but he didn’t say what.” Tim quirked an eyebrow.

“Is he on a field trip all by his lonesome? That didn’t go so well for him last time.” Sasha frowned in the way in which Tim had previously thought only teachers could, disappointment and fondness all rolled into one.

“No, I don’t think so. Though honestly he was gone before I really got a chance to ask.”

“Well, this tea isn’t going to drink itself. Is he here somewhere or like, out and about?”

“Out. Should be back soon, though, if he wants to stay on Jon’s good side.”

“Oh, we know he does,” Tim said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. Sasha scoffed and rolled her eyes, though Tim could tell she agreed.

“Just leave it on his desk.” Tim did so and then headed in to greet his boss. Not bothering to knock since he was in too good a mood to be stopped, Tim burst through the door with a huge smile on his face.

“Look who brought you a coffee!” Tim bellowed in his cheeriest voice. Jon looked exactly as surprised and flustered as expected, and shot Tim a look somewhere between anger and the pained expression of a child being forced to say ‘thank you.’

“Dear lord, Tim, do you have an inside voice?” He asked immediately. Tim approached with his drink and placed it down, Jon hastily snatching a paper out of its path. “I do appreciate it, but Martin brought me tea this morning as well.” He muttered apologetically, gesturing to a nearly empty mug beside him.

“Everyone here is very concerned with your hydration habits,” Tim said sagely, refusing to humor the idea of Jon rejecting his very kind gift. Jon nodded with a brief look of befuddlement on his face before turning to his papers again.

“Right. Well, again, thank you.” He looked up at Tim for a moment, eyeing his extremely loud shirt as if it were actually screaming. It was bright pink and decorated with a repeating pattern of even brighter pink flamingos. Tim smiled proudly.

“It’s my Monday shirt. It makes the day a little better.” He explained, and Jon seemed to be at a loss for words.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in it.” He remarked as if this somehow proved that he was wearing it today just to mess with him specifically.

“Oh, I have, and you gave me that exact same look last time.” Jon nodded grimly as if that made perfect sense to him before grabbing a folder and holding it out to Tim.

“If you wouldn’t mind looking into this case for me, I don’t think this one should be too difficult.” He said, and Tim knew this was his way of being nice in return. A ‘not too difficult’ case often meant one that didn’t need much fact-checking or had already been extensively researched. Tim held the thing close to his chest and beamed at Jon, who shriveled slightly under the attention.

“Aw, boss, you do care. The Monday shirt was a success.” He added as he began to leave.

As he closed the door, however, a heavy wave of disappointment crashed over him. He blinked a few times, frowning deeply before looking up to see Sasha’s forlorn expression. Seeing her upset made him feel even worse; he couldn’t comfort her if he was equally bummed. He walked over to his desk and set the file down. He was about to say something when he noticed Martin and a person he didn’t know enter the archives. Martin had the strangest look on his face that Tim had ever seen, some sort of combination of extreme pride and regret. He eyed his friends with an apologetic expression before ushering his guest into an empty room and closing the door. As soon as the door was shut, the pressing weight of sadness was lifted from Tim, and he was left utterly baffled.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, looking at the door Martin and the stranger had disappeared behind. Sasha seemed less rattled than he felt, but she shook her head in confusion.

“I honestly have no idea.” She said with a bit of wonder in her voice. “Let’s go find out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapters are short and I was planning on posting the next one at the same time as this one but I got busy so I shall post it tomorrow! Thank you for reading!


	6. Witness - Sasha

Sasha jumped out of her seat just as the door to Jon’s office swung open. Jon stood there rigidly, though his eyes were darting around the place as if he had expected to catch a burglar in the act. She and Tim both looked at him with unmasked surprise, first at his sudden appearance and then his strange demeanor.

“Is anyone else here?” He asked, his voice tinged with panic. Tim nodded, and Sasha walked forward to meet him.

“Martin just came back with someone I didn’t recognize.” She said, and from Jon’s reaction, he seemed to know more than they did. “Did you feel it too, when they entered?” She asked, and Jon crumpled under her gaze.

“I – uh. Yes. He brought them here?” He asked, looking around wildly.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Tim asked forcefully. Jon focused back on them.

“Something likely unpleasant. Where did they go?”

“Just in the other room. Not Martin’s room, but the other storage room.” Sasha explained, and Jon was already making his way over. They followed him, Tim giving her a baffled expression and her shrugging in response. It was nice to have a non-worm related event, though.

Jon threw the door open to reveal Martin and the tall individual seated at the only table in this room. Martin had his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and Sasha stood on her tiptoes to look over Tim’s shoulder to get a good look at the stranger. A wave of dread washed over her, but she could recognize that it wasn’t her own feelings now. Sasha felt it radiating off the other person in the room, but they appeared extremely calm.

“Why did you let them inside?” immediately Jon asked Martin, ignoring the other person and addressing him with less of a condescending tone than usual, more desperation in his voice. The figure turned to look at Jon fully, and he recoiled under their gaze.

“Greetings, Archivist. A pleasure to see you again.” They said, their voice low and smooth. They were the image of serenity, and Sasha wondered how they knew each other.

“What are you doing here?” Jon asked, eyes darting to and from the individual without settling. “What do you want?” He continued, but before they could respond Martin finally regained the ability to speak, turning their gazes to him.

“I listened to the tape, Jon, and I wanted to do something to help, so I went outside to investigate a little, and I was right. They wanted to make a statement. They wanted to talk to you, specifically, but I didn’t want to stress you out more –”

“Well, it’s too late for that.” He snapped, and then he turned to see Tim and Sasha still crowded behind him. “You two should get back to work. I’ll take care of this.” He said sternly, and Tim only scoffed in response.

“This is way too interesting to ignore.” He stated, and Sasha pushed by both the men without resistance, aside from Jon’s sputtering protests, to get a better look at the individual inside. She was curious as to what their story was, what their role was in all this, and all of Jon’s fussing was taking the attention away from them.

“What’s your name?” She asked, earning her a small smile.

“I was known as the Prophet,” they started, “But you may call me Cass.” They said, and Sasha nodded.

“I’m Sasha James. Are you alright?” She asked, noticing the iron grip they seemed to have on the edges of the shawl they wore. They nodded once; their gaze locked on Sasha now. Everyone else seemed to have frozen in response to her actions. To her surprise, once she had started talking to Cass, she felt the dread dissipate slightly. The air in the room was still tense, but it felt significantly less overwhelming than before.

“I came here as a warning.” They said, not answering her question, and Sasha looked at them curiously.

“A warning of what?” Their expression changed at this, revealing a gorgeous smile that was quite unsettling as it did not reach their dark eyes, which remained calm and static.

“The end of the world as you know it.” They replied as if they were discussing sports or something of similar consequence. The emphasis on the word ‘you’ rather than ‘we’ struck Sasha as odd. She thought she should feel afraid now, as it was becoming obvious that something very abnormal was happening here. She had worked in artifact storage long enough to recognize the feeling of a dangerous object, and her sense for the allegedly supernatural seemed to extend to people as well. She didn’t feel any hostility from this figure, though, and even thought she sensed some caution in them. They weren’t afraid, they were waiting. Waiting for what, Sasha didn’t know, though she instinctively knew that this encounter could go a number of ways.

“Why?” She asked cautiously, and Tim huffed an incredulous laugh. Cass’s head tilted up, their focus still on Sasha.

“Do you not _Know_ why?” They asked, and something about their intonation bothered Sasha. She assumed that anyone who lived on this planet would want to stop the end of the world, but this ‘prophet’ seemed utterly at ease with the concept. They were there for a reason Sasha couldn’t place, which she did not like. It was time to gamble, then. She decided to call their bluff.

“Give me your warning, then.” She said, trying to stay in control of the situation that she had put herself in the middle of. Jon made a sound of protest, but Sasha patted his arm without looking at him. For some reason, she knew that this was the right thing to do. Cass did turn to look at him, though, her attention seemingly split between the two of them.

“This is a rather unique situation. I see a number of ways this could go.” They said, echoing Sasha’s own sentiments, though seemingly for reasons other than her own. “I will give Jon my warning.” They decided, and Jon tensed up as they fixed their gaze onto him. Sasha and Tim both moved defensively toward him, Tim placing a hand on his shoulder and Sasha keeping her grip on his arm. Martin was still seated at the other side of the table, but Sasha could see the concern on his face. He was clearly full of regret.

“Would you like to see what your fate will be if you continue on your current path?” They asked, and Jon audibly swallowed.

“I suppose.” He said, his voice small and quiet. He gripped Sasha’s forearm back in response, and his grip was hard. Suddenly he went rigid, and Sasha tensed as well, as she couldn’t tell if he was still breathing. She noticed in awe that Cass’s eyes had turned utterly black, the whites fading away as the deep color bled across them. No words were exchanged, but there was a tension in the air, and the feeling of dread and hopelessness had returned, reaching its peak. Martin made a strangled sound, though he seemed unharmed, and Sasha looked over to see Jon’s wide and unblinking eyes. He looked utterly terrified, and the veins in his eyes seemed to be popping. After a moment, she noticed a single red tear fall down Jon’s cheek. Tim let out a choked breath of his own as he noticed the physical changes in the two of them, and before she could stop him, he tore Jon away from Cass, ripping him out of their line of sight. Jon crumpled into his arms as a deadweight, and Martin immediately stood, knocking his chair to the floor.

“Get out!” Tim shouted, and Cass blinked once, their eyes returning to their normal brown. If they were bothered by this turn of events, they did not acknowledge it, and they promptly stood to leave. Martin rounded the table to help Tim set Jon down, the figure he had let in forgotten. Martin’s voice was quavering and high, wondering if they should try to wake Jon or call an ambulance. Sasha turned to watch the figure leave, and nearly told them to wait, as she wanted more from them, but they passed her without speaking, holding her gaze until they turned their head to continue forward. Once they were gone, Sasha felt her normal emotions returning, and she knelt down to help Tim and Martin check in on Jon. 


	7. Vision - Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tape that Jon gave Martin, which he references, is in my Miscellaneous Statements series if you want to read it, though it is basically a recap of the first chapter.

Jon was in a dark room. He knew if he opened his eyes he would see it again, see the sky filled with irises, various sizes unblinking and eerie. They were woven into the same grisly tapestry that seemed to stretch between the stars, darting around and soaking the dry and unwelcoming environment in. No matter where they looked, one was always trained on him. It wasn’t the same eye for long, but he was unable to hide from them all, no matter where he moved. He felt the presence of his companion beside him but did not turn to look at them. He could feel their hand in his, the only thing grounding him, stopping him from joining the awful observation that this place offered. He tried to remember how he had gotten there, but the wind in his ears and the terror overtaking his mind made it difficult to think. He missed people, his friends, his enemies. There were holes in his network of allies. What had happened to Sasha? To Tim? To Daisy?

He stopped for a moment, the scene in front of him shifting. Did he know anyone named Daisy? He saw flashes of darkness and felt a crushing pressure surrounding him. He was trapped. His hand burned as if it were dipped in acid, and he tried to wrench it away from the unwelcome darkness, but doing so irritated the sores he suddenly felt all over his body, and he realized miserably that there was something squirming under his skin. He felt sick and twisted, his body crumbling and his ribs aching. He tried to look around, tried to find something stable, but all he could see were the eyes watching him back through the growing darkness, unemotional, unjudging, but absorbing the pain he was in without comment. He thought he recognized some of the eyes, a pair of dull sickly green, and he could feel the name of their owner bubbling into his mind. Suddenly the crushing pressure resided, and his feet slipped from their purchase on the ground. He began to fall, the eyes becoming farther and farther away, and he screamed as he saw he was approaching the horrifically oversized maw of some toothed beast.

He sat upright with a start, the echo of his dream scream waking him from the vision. He felt sore all over, and he felt this arm with his free hand. No burns, no bugs, no stones or eyes. He took a breath and realized that he was in the storage room of the archives, on the cot he used to nap on before he had allowed Martin to claim it as his own. Tim sat at the foot of his bed and Sasha was in the doorway. There was someone just outside the room who Jon couldn’t see, and Sasha seemed to be nodding as they spoke. His thought his companion from the vision still held his hand firmly, but he turned to instead see Martin sitting in a chair beside him. He gently retrieved his hand from Martin’s, who shyly let it go without a word. Tim noticed his movement and patted his leg, a look of intense worry on his face.

“You alright, boss?” He asked, his eyes scanning every inch of Jon’s face. Jon averted his gaze, thankful Tim’s eyes were a warm brown and not that sickly green, and he attempted to swing his legs over the cot. Martin put a tentative hand out as if to steady him, and Jon tried to wave him away.

“I think I’m fine. Just…” He struggled to find the words for what he had just experienced. “I’m just a bit shaken.” He concluded, satisfied with his assessment.

Sasha noticed his movement as well and waved in the figure in the doorway. It was Elias, and Jon wilted at the sight of him, refusing to look at his face. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was afraid of, but he felt no small amount of both fear and anger at his appearance.

“Glad to see you awake, Jon.” He said, though his voice was clipped. He certainly did not sound glad.

“Sorry for the fuss. I hope you didn’t have to cut your meeting short.” Jon replied, wishing he would go away. Tim and Martin were solid on either side of him, though, and he was thankful for their presence.

“It’s no problem at all. I was coming down to talk to you anyway when I heard the commotion.” He said, and Jon settled on looking at his shoes. They were polished to the point of being too shiny.

“I’m fine. I just had a rather upsetting conversation with a statement-giver.” Jon said, and Elias clicked his tongue.

“There’s no point in lying to me Jon. Your assistants filled me in.” He said, and Jon glanced up at Sasha, who was smiling at him with concern. He furrowed his brows for a moment. He knew she didn’t look any different than normal, her long braids and glasses framing her face and the light blue dress contrasting with rich brown skin, but he had a vague memory of her looking quite different, of her having dull grey eyes and lighter hair… he shook the ridiculous thoughts from his mind, his focus clouding as he risked losing himself in the strange somber feeling washing over him.

“The fact that someone would pose as a victim just to come in and attack you is wildly upsetting. I will make sure to increase security and start a screening process for potential statement-givers at once.” He said, and Jon finally looked up at his face. He seemed tense and somewhat bored, though his sickly green eyes held their usual intensity.

“Right,” he murmured uneasily. “Thank you, Elias.” He said, and Elias gave a curt nod.

“Now, if you’re sure you’re not injured, I will have to return to my business. I want you all to take the rest of the day off. You can take as much time as you need to recover, Jon.” He said, and Tim seemed to brighten at his words.

“Thanks, boss-boss!” He said, and Sasha looked at him with a pained expression. Tim backed down at her look and quieted.

“Of course. I would hate for anything to happen without my knowledge to my archivist, nor any of his assistants.” He said, and with that, he was back out the door. _His_ archivist. Jon despised the way he tried to claim him. He glared at his back as he left, though he barely had the energy to fuel the anger in his chest.

He was silent for a moment as he let himself feel relief. He was in the archives, where he worked, and it was a Monday. He had been attacked by a potential statement-giver, and he had fainted. Now he was fine, albeit rattled, and he and his assistants were given permission to go home, so that’s what they should do. He straightened up and faltered slightly when he realized all three of them were staring at him. He could feel his resolve weakening under their gazes, and he couldn’t look at Martin at all. He looked like he wanted to cry if he hadn’t already done so. It made some feeling well up in Jon that he didn’t recognize, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Did you tell him what really happened?” Jon asked, looking between Tim and Sasha.

“We tried to.” Tim huffed, and Sasha shook her head.

“I don’t think any of us knows exactly what happened.” She replied, and Jon nodded dazedly.

“Right. Well. We might as well listen to Elias and get out of here.” He said, though the phrase ‘listen to Elias’ didn’t sit well with him. Tim made a sound, and Jon looked at him with concern.

“Wha – No! Tell us what you saw!” Tim said, and Sasha leaned forward to smack his arm.

“Leave him alone, Tim. It can wait. Let him relax.” She chided, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Something majorly screwed up just happened, and we all saw it, so we’re all a part of it.” He said, and Jon frowned. They all hadn’t seen what he had, or else they’d be acting as strangely as he felt.

“I agree with Sasha. I don’t feel up to it right now.” He said abruptly as he stood to leave. Sasha hushed Tim’s next attempt to speak and Jon heard them bickering without listening to their words as he made his way to his office. He grabbed his bag, not bothering to take the statement he had been reading with him. He threw his coat over his shoulder and was almost to the door when Martin made his way into his peripheral.

“Jon…” He said his name as a question, and Jon felt anger boil up inside him.

“I told you I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t want to see them.” He said, his voice cold. Martin shrunk at his voice, but he didn’t move away. "I trusted you." He added softly, and that seemed to hit Martin more than his harsher tone.

“I’m so, so sorry Jon, I wanted to deal with it myself. I wanted to help. I know it’s my fault, I just –”

“Yes, it is.” He snapped, and he continued out the door, feeling, though it was still early in the day, that he could go back to his bed and sleep for hours. 


	8. Cryptic - Martin

Martin was miserable. He knew he had completely ruined any trust Jon had in him, professional or personal, when Jon stormed out of the archive that day. Martin had been given an opportunity when Jon had confided in him, and he squandered it by going ahead and trying to make things better. Every time he tried to help, things only seemed to get worse, and it was exhausting. It made Martin feel utterly useless. Though these thoughts plagued his mind in a swarm, he also knew he couldn’t have made any other choice. He had felt driven to talk to Cass through some force he didn’t quite understand. He was naturally fairly curious, but after he had listened to Jon’s recorded account of them, he was sure in some strange way that they had something important to tell them, and lo and behold, they had still been waiting patiently outside the institute when he popped his head outside to check. As if they had been waiting for him, they had caught his eye, nodded once, and made their way to him. They had seemed calm and rational enough and told Martin they were merely a messenger, and he had believed them. Unfortunately, his instincts had apparently been dead wrong, and all they had done was hurt Jon and make Martin look like a fool.

Tim and Sasha had already told him that none of it was his fault, but Jon had been even more distant than usual since then. He hadn’t said anything explicitly rude since his exit, but he seemed much more tired than before, which was an alarming achievement. The dark bags under his eyes were heavy and his skin had a slightly ashy cast to it. Martin couldn’t tell if leaving him alone or trying to be there for him would be the smarter option in this scenario, but all he wanted was to make up for allowing him to get hurt. He had decided it was best to land somewhere in the middle, so his attention hadn’t really changed. He still brought Jon tea at four o’clock every day and generally avoided him other than that.

Apart from his extreme exhaustion, his boss seemed no worse for wear, which Martin was relieved about. The day after the incident had been tense, as Jon had come promptly into work and attempted to gloss over the whole thing as if it hadn’t happened. Tim was not about to let that slide, though, and had pestered him until Jon finally snapped and told them that he had only been having some bad dreams since them. Sasha had asked what they were about, and after a brief pause, he had replied, “The end of the world.”

None of them knew how to deal with that information, remembering Cass’s so-called warning. Tim had tried to make a joke, but Jon just seemed distant and forlorn. He said he didn’t believe it meant anything, despite Sasha’s adamant protests, and after a small argument, he had agreed to keep an ongoing record of his nightmares “just in case” anything useful, relevant, or otherwise interesting could be found there. Jon had scoffed about his new obligatory dream-journaling, but even Tim said it seemed like a better idea than ignoring it completely. Martin had merely watched his confrontation go down from afar, not wanting to agitate Jon further.

It had been a couple of weeks since then, and despite Sasha’s intense belief that Cass had been trying to tell him something, the event was nearly forgotten, what with the strange deliveries coming in. There were many things competing for their attention at the moment, including the ever-present worms lurking in the shadows and outside the institute. After Jon’s refusal to destroy the table in artefact storage – a place Martin despised the idea of despite never having been there himself – he had been rather annoyed with Jon. It wasn’t really his fault that Jon didn’t like him very much, and therefore didn’t like his ideas, as he did try his best to impress him. Tim really must have been getting to him for him to think so, though.

With all that going on, it would have been easy to forget about the blip that was the self-proclaimed prophet’s visit if Jon hadn’t begun saying extremely cryptic things without warning. Martin had been there for at least two of these occurrences. The first time, Sasha had been complaining about a file that had very sloppy notes concerning an artefact that was in storage while Jon was walking by. At the mere mention of the other department, he had gone rigid and frantically told Sasha to stay as far from there as she could. “Don’t you step foot in artefact storage.” He had said, as sternly as a teacher, and Sasha had given him a bewildered look as she promised she wasn’t planning on it. Given her history there, Martin was likely to agree that she had no reason to be there, but Jon’s intensity suggested a genuine concern.

The next odd comment Martin witnessed occurred the day before last. Tim was explaining the logistics of a rather intense action film he had recently seen to Martin while they sat at the break room table, describing the amount of fire in one scene as ‘ludicrous’ for the negligible size of the explosives the characters had used. Jon had been using the microwave, keeping to himself as he usually did. At the mention of explosives, he went stiff, though, and had turned slowly to tell Tim that he advised him to never interact with any explosives, and after a slight pause, not to go to any wax museums either, before grabbing his food and rushing back to his office. Tim had given Martin a wide-eyed look at that, “Because those things are definitely related…” but Martin had just shrugged and moved on. Jon often said strange things. It was his way of participating in conversations he wasn’t already a part of. The only thing that made this any different than normal was the puzzled look on his face and how he declined to elaborate.

Even though he didn’t think Jon had much of a reason to talk to him, Martin was wondering if he would be getting some piece of unexpected advice next. To his relief, or perhaps his disappointment, Jon didn’t seem to have any for him, though he had been catching him staring a couple of times. Jon would always snap his gaze away as soon as Martin noticed, but it had happened enough times now that Martin was wondering if Jon was holding something back. He tried not to dwell on it, but as always when it came to matters involving Jon, his efforts were unsuccessful.


	9. Letter - Sasha

Sasha didn’t like lying. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t very good at it, in fact, much the opposite was true. That was one reason Tim felt so safe coming to her with all of his secrets and plans; he knew she would never tell another soul what he confided to her. She never liked to put her skill – if one could call it that – into practice though, for she felt willful dishonesty as heavy and unpleasant as a wet blanket over her, preferring the blunt candor in most cases. Occasionally, though, a situation would arise where some discretion was warranted, and she could shine. One such circumstance had presented itself to her nearly a month after Cass had come to speak to Jon. She had entered the institute and was passing by the front desk with a smile for Rosie when the older woman stopped her.

“Oh, Ms. James, I have a letter for you.” She said suddenly as if she had only remembered upon seeing her face that morning. Sasha puzzled over what it could be. There was virtually no communication in the institute that wasn’t done either in-person or via email. Anyone dropping off a letter to her workplace must have been unaware of her home address. The letter itself was unsuspicious: an average white envelope covered in startlingly neat cursive. It simply read _Sasha James – Archives_ , with no return address.

“Who dropped this off?” She asked, but Rosie only shrugged.

“I’m afraid I’m not sure. I was in the other room for a moment, and when I returned to the desk it was there,” She pointed primly to the countertop in front of her. “I hadn’t gotten a chance to bring it down to you yet, so I just held onto it.” She explained, and Sasha’s curiosity felt like a wild thing clawing at her chest from within. She thanked Rosie and hurried into the hall from the lobby, stopping by the door to the employee’s area, near the staircase down to the archives. She furiously tore the letter open in the corner of the empty hall, after making sure she was alone. Within was a single piece of thin paper with more of the light scrawling calligraphy.

_If something happens to him_ – was all it read. Below the single line of text was an unfamiliar address. Sasha looked at it in confusion for a moment. _Him_ , who? Her powers of deduction were great, but there wasn’t a lot to go off of here. She knew, though it was addressed to her, that it was something to do with the archives, not her personal life. She didn’t have a lot of close family or friends, and certainly none who would hand-deliver strange letters to her workplace.

The message could be about any of her coworkers, as she nearly exclusively worked with men now, but she assumed that it must be about Jon, as she wasn’t extremely close to Martin, and anyone who was concerned with Tim would know him well enough to say it to his face rather than sneak around behind his back. Already in investigative mode, she immediately pulled out her phone and searched the address up. It was a park not far from the Institute. What in the world would she do at a park if anything happened to Jon?

She mused about who would want to send her a cryptic message about him. Her first thought was Michael, as he had been intent on ‘helping’ before. She shuttered at the memory of how his sharp hands felt when he had pulled the worm out of her skin. This didn’t seem like him – _it_ , though. This was cleaner, neater, though no more straightforward than he had been. She expected that if he were ever to write her a letter it would have much worse penmanship. The only other person she could think of was Cass, but why would they care what happened to Jon this long after their visit, and why would they want to talk to Sasha about it? She was almost ready to write it off as some sort of weird prank when she felt something else at the bottom of the envelope. It was a single penny. Or at least, it was about the size and shape of a penny. The coin was small and copper-colored, but was completely blank on one side, seemingly worn smooth by touch, and the other contained only the small imprint of an open eye. This did not help her understand any more than she did, but she decided that if the time came she might know what to do with it. She slid her new secret into her pocket, and for some reason felt no guilt not mentioning it to anyone.

There was no challenge in hiding her intriguing findings from her colleagues that particular day. Martin seemed to be in a fairly good mood and was humming to himself while organizing a large box of unsorted files. Tim was writing up his findings for his latest statement follow-up, and Jon, as per usual, was locked away in his office, likely recording. The other assistants greeted her as she came in but were each quickly absorbed back into their tasks. Sasha sighed to herself and idly wondered if they would ever encounter something so strange that they wouldn’t be able to just get back to work after. She supposed that if she were given the choice between working with the supernatural or working a regular nine-to-five, the Magnus Institute was the perfect non-choice or middle ground. Or at least it had seemed that way initially.

Unsurprisingly, after Tim got bored with his project – seconds away from being done but not wanting to be assigned another task – he began to chat with Sasha.

“There is absolutely no way that Jon would agree to that.” She laughed, but Tim pushed on.

“Of course, he would! Team bonding is very important. Besides, all we do is sit down here. I think we need to do something more active. Get our blood pumping a bit.”

“But a – a field day sounds… rather like a lot of effort for just the four of us.” Martin chimed in, half amused and half serious. 

“Then we won’t do a field day. Sasha would get too competitive anyway.” He said to Martin, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“ _I’d_ get competitive? Alright, Mr. I-will-do-anything-on-a-dare.” Tim laughed.

“Seriously, though, what if we took some days off and did something fun? Or better yet, stayed on the clock and got paid to go hiking?”

“You’d be more likely to convince Elias of something like that than Jon,” Martin said, and Sasha nodded in agreement.

“Then maybe we’ll have to go over his head and force him to relax a little.” Tim mused. “He seems so wound up lately.” They all silently agreed, and Tim somehow decided he had wasted enough time.

“I’m going to go pass this folder in, and then I’m heading to lunch.” He announced. Sasha gave him a thumbs up, as he tended to want a reaction after making a statement, and he stood to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments!! I appreciate knowing people are interested! It makes writing this so much more fun!


	10. Lunch - Tim

“You can’t go out.”

“Excuse me?” Tim asked in confusion. Jon was staring up at him from his desk.

“You shouldn’t go out for lunch.” Jon clarified, and Tim looked at him as if he had three heads.

“I wasn’t really asking, you know. I’m allowed to go eat.” He said, almost amused by Jon’s imperious tone. He was looking at him with worry, though, rather than any kind of malicious joy at bossing Tim around.

“I – I know. I’m sorry. I guess I’m asking you to _please_ stay in, today.” He said, and Tim decided this was probably important enough to discuss, as Jon’s hands were curling tightly into fists, his nails pushing into the base of his palms. Tim grabbed one of the chairs from the back table and pulled it up in front of Jon, setting it up facing away and straddling it, leaning his arms on the back.

“Fess up. What’s this about?” He asked, and Jon looked away for a moment. He seemed utterly at a loss, and Tim wondered at what had him in such a twist. He had only ever seen Jon like this once, maybe twice before. The first time had been when he had barely known him, shortly after he started working in research. Apparently, he had broken up with his girlfriend – or rather, she had broken up with him. Jon had been miserable to be around for about a week before his frequent sighs faded into forlorn looks and Tim had taken pity on him. Going out for drinks with Jon had been an enlightening experience, to say the least. The second time was after Elias had asked Jon to be head archivist. He had asked Tim if he should take the job, and though Tim earnestly believed that Sasha should’ve gotten it instead, he knew Jon had no power to influence that decision, and he had been so concerned with whether it was the right move or not that Tim had sat down to seriously talk it through with him. Jon had concluded that he would need Tim around if he transferred departments, and Tim had obviously agreed, recommending he bring Sasha along as well.

This situation was not either of these things, though. Tim knew Jon didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment. He hadn’t dated anyone since then, to his knowledge, and he obviously wasn’t getting any new kind of promotion. This was likely supernatural stress.

“I don’t really know.” Jon finally admitted, and Tim looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Jon watched him with a concentrated expression, his dark eyes trained on Tim’s.

“You remember how I – fell unconscious after Cass came in,” He started, and Tim couldn’t help himself.

“How you fainted and fell into my arms? Yeah, I vaguely remember.” Jon narrowed his eyes at that, and Tim smiled his most winning smile in return.

“Well, I had some sort of vision. I know I had briefly mentioned it to you the day after, but… they made me see _terrible_ things. And I can’t stop remembering flashes of it. I get bits and pieces throughout the day, just random facts, or events that feel like facts, but make absolutely no sense.” He rambled, and Tim could tell he had been holding this back for a while now. He watched Jon loosen as the words poured out of him.

“I have dreams, as I told you, almost every night, and I do try to get them down when I wake. I think I can almost see the shape of what it means, but so much of it is missing. I don’t know if it’s because it’s too much to remember, too much to know at once, or if it’s because they didn’t get to give me the whole message.” Tim bristled at that.

“I don’t think it would have mattered if they told you more if the price was your eyes turning into bloody soup.” He retorted, and Jon made a face.

“I – yes, well. Thank you for that, by the way. I don’t think I ever got to say that for wrenching me out of it. It was not pleasant.” Tim nodded in understanding. He had thought he was saving Jon, but watching the man’s turmoil made him doubt his action. Would it have been better to let him stay and possibly get injured? It was more than likely that Cass had just been messing with Jon’s head. Still, Tim thought it best to treat Jon’s visions as at least important for now, until they could figure out the meaning behind them.

“Of course. Anytime.” Tim said somewhat awkwardly. Jon seemed to be relaxing, his hands falling out of their tight grip on nothing.

“So, is that why I can’t get lunch today? Something in your dreams?” Tim asked, having to hold himself back from making a joke about Jon dreaming of him.

“Yes. I can’t put it all together, but I know something bad happens to you. And Sasha, and Martin. I just don’t always know _when_.” He explained, running a hand through his hair. “I want to try to prevent these events from occurring, obviously, but I have very little to go on.”

“And me going out for lunch, today, is related to something bad? As well as explosions, and wax museums?” He asked, trying to figure out exactly what he was saying. Jon shook his head in frustration.

“I think so? They’re not all explicitly related, but I have a sense of it. It’s too big to fit in my head, and it’s trying to get out. It’s just a constant gnawing feeling, really.” Tim pursed his lips and quieted for a moment, thinking it over.

“Alright. I’ll humor you today. I’ll stay in and see if there’s anything to eat in the break room.” Tim conceded, and Jon visibly relaxed.

“Thank you, Tim.” He said, and Tim nodded as he stood and put the chair back at the table.

“Well, if you’re right about this, then you could be saving my life, so I should probably be thanking you.” He said. To his relief, Jon seemed to be much further from the verge of a nervous breakdown and even seemed safe enough to smile.

“I hope that’s what I’m doing,” Jon muttered, and Tim hesitated by his desk.

“We can help, you know. All three of us. You should tell us whatever you can about all this, not just the creepy parts that apply directly to us. If you’re having a hard time thinking of what it means all by yourself, maybe you just need more heads involved.” Jon looked doubtful.

“I don’t want to worry everyone for nothing. We don’t even know if it’s real.” He protested, but Tim could see his exterior wall of denial crumbling.

“Just consider it. You’ve already started letting it influence you, and I think you’re likely the best person to decide whether it’s genuine or not, with all your skeptic tendencies.” Jon merely hummed in acknowledgment at this and grabbed the file Tim had brought him. He was obviously ready for the conversation to be over, and Tim wasn’t going to ignore the hint.

“Think it over tonight, talk to us tomorrow.” He said firmly. Jon swallowed and then nodded his head in agreement.

“Alright. That’s fair.” He said quietly. Satisfied with their decision, Tim felt the need to lighten the mood.

“If you see anything fun in my future, though, like, say, a hot date, you’ll have to let me know _immediately_.” Jon barely smiled at his words, but it quickly disappeared.

“I don’t think it works like that.” He said quietly, but he didn’t protest further as Tim closed the door behind him.

Tim felt uneasy. He knew that supernatural things existed, and he had mostly come to terms with it. They were unpredictable and powerful, and Tim was dead set on fighting against them. It felt strange to be taking supernatural advice, and he wondered how much of Jon’s dreams were real, and how much of them were tainted by dark forces. He didn’t even really know if these were the same dark forces that had stolen his brother, or if these were different ones. None of them could likely be trusted, so they’d have to be very careful. Whatever was going on, he wanted to be in the know at all times. He made his way back to his desk and sat heavily, contemplating what this could all mean. He must have been acting too pensive, as Sasha slid down in her chair to kick his ankle under their desks. He looked up at her when he felt it, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not feeling like going out. I think I’m gonna stay in and find something to eat here. I’m pretty sure Jon keeps savoury biscuits or something in the break room.” He said, and he pulled his phone out to text Sasha. Martin had perked up at his words, though.

“I have some instant noodles.” Martin offered, and Tim smiled at him.

“I’m not going to steal your lunch, Martin.”

“It’s okay, I always bring extra! Let’s go right now and see what we can find!” Tim laughed.

“Well, in that case, yes, please. I’m starving.” Tim said, and he stood up to follow Martin, who had already gotten halfway to the breakroom. Tim’s phone pinged as he walked away from his desk. It was Sasha.

_You ok?_

_Yeah, Jon’s gonna have a sit down with us soon, tho. His nightmares are getting worse._

_Noted. He say smth?_

_Told me not to leave the institute for lunch._

_Weird_

_Yeah. He’s not doing so well_

_Are you worried about him?_

_Yeah_

_He’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out._

_I know. ty_

Tim sighed and pocketed his phone as Martin started making lunch for the both of them. Tim offered to help, but Martin pushed his efforts away.

“It’s easy. Don’t worry about it.” He said, and Tim shrugged and took a seat at the table.

“Has Jon said anything weird to you lately?” He asked, and Martin shrugged, his back to him so he couldn’t see his face.

“He hasn’t said much of anything to me apart from asking me about the delivery of the table.” He said. Tim scratched at the stubble on his chin.

“Do you think it’s real? His dreams and all?” He asked, honestly wanting Martin’s help in all this.

“I think he believes it, as much as he doesn’t want to. I don’t know if it’s possible to see the future perfectly, but if it is, we might want to try and heed his warnings.” He said, and it was the perfectly rational and measured type of response Tim had been dreading. He wanted someone to have a strong conviction one way or the other, no more maybes or uncertainties.

They ate their lunch together, Sasha eventually joining them to get her sandwich out of the fridge. Tim was glad for the distraction, as they discussed whatever came to mind that wasn’t related to visions or worms. Speaking of the worms, though, Martin jumped as he went to throw his plastic bowl out.

“Oh, god, there’s a couple of them over here!” He said, and he turned to grab the fire extinguisher off the far wall. Tim and Sasha knew exactly what he meant, and jumped up and looked around to make sure there weren’t more of them, Sasha standing on her chair.

“I don’t see anymore in here.” She said from her perch, and Tim approached the area that Martin had seen. It seemed there had been a minuscule crack in the wall that they had breached, and about a dozen of the silvery worms had already forced their way through. He backed away with an audible “eugh!” as Martin pushed past him and blasted the spot in the wall with the co2. They quickly shriveled and died, but Martin waited a moment to see if any more would emerge. For a moment there was nothing, and then the wall seemed to bulge slightly as if it were wet paper, and a few more worms began to pop out.

“They’re in the walls?” Tim realized with horror, hoping it wasn’t true. Before he could question it further, Martin continued to spray that particular spot on the wall. From back in the archives, a faint crash could be heard, and Sasha jumped off of her chair.

“I’ll go check on Jon.” She said, and she ran out of the room. Tim stuck his head out of the door but didn’t see anything concerning in the cavernous main area of the archives.

“Bring a co2 canister!” He shouted, and he watched her grab one off of Martin’s desk on her way into Jon’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to do something visually interesting for Tim and Sasha's text convo, but lmk if it's hard to read and I'll edit it. Thanks!


	11. Déjà vu - Jon

Jon knew they were there before he saw them. It was like a bad case of déjà vu, the vague feeling of something familiar, the outline of a memory slipping in and out of his mind like water through his hands. He knew there were worms in the walls. Even as he tried to brush the idea off, he thought he could hear them. He knew he wasn’t really hearing them, but it was such a pressing thought, loud and bothersome.

He barely made it through his latest recording before he got distracted by the sight of a spider on the wall. That was something real. That was something he could stop, and he did hate spiders. Just as he reached out to hit it, he remembered how the shelf crashed last time he did that. It was too late to pull his hand back, though, and he jumped away as the shelf collapsed. That hadn’t actually happened before, but it was happening _now_ , and it was bad.

Jon furrowed his brows as he tried to concentrate. What happened next? _Sasha will come in_. If his visions had any validity to them, then Sasha would be there any minute. He tried to tell himself he was going crazy, as if that were the preferable option here. Sasha would come in, ask if he was alright, and then they would notice the worms, and then they would run into Martin, and try to wait for Tim. But Tim was still here. Things were already different. To his surprise, the door slammed open behind him without warning. Less of a surprise was the fact that it was indeed Sasha who had opened it.

“Jon, the worms are attacking! They’re in the walls!” She said, her eyes wide, and he just nodded mutely, trying to switch between staying in the present and remembering the future.

_Gertrude is dead_ , he realized like a bolt of lightning through him. _She is below_. But where? They were already in the basement. _There are tunnels_. Jon didn’t have the time or energy to question it.

Sasha, ignoring Jon’s motionless form, noticed the collapsed shelf beside him and approached cautiously with her extinguisher held out in front of her. There was a dent in the wall, and she smashed the wall further with her canister.

“Don’t do that!” He finally managed to say, snapping himself out of his reverie. Sasha pulled back quickly as she saw a few worms fall from the opening she had agitated.

“Spray them!” He shouted again, and she did so, blasting the area around the dent. Jon picked the tape recorder that was on his desk up and pocketed it. He would defiantly need a record of this.

“Alright, let’s go, we have to move. It isn’t safe here.” He said. He snatched a co2 canister in one hand and grabbed her arm with the other, pulling her out before the situation got worse as he knew it would.

“What’s going on? Why are they this bad?” She asked, looking around wildly as they left Jon’s office.

“Prentiss is here.” He said, the answer ripped from him before he was even aware. How had he not realized this would happen sooner? He had told Tim to stay in from lunch when he should’ve told them all to evacuate and call exterminators, or _something_. What use were visions if they came too late?

“Where?” She asked, extinguisher up in front of her as if she were ready to take her on solo.

“I – I’m not sure. Does it matter? We need to leave!” He continued, pulling her into the main space of the archives.

“Where are the others?” He asked.

“Break room.” She said quickly, nodding towards the far end near the exit.

“Perfect. We’ll get them on our way out.” He said, and Sasha didn’t protest. As they ran towards the other end of the large room, they noticed more and more worms cropping up. The walls seemed to be full of them, or maybe the floor. They were fast and powerful, one jumping nearly to his shoulder, much to Jon’s horror. It landed on his arm with a wet plop, and he was barely able to grab the end of it and pull it out of him before it disappeared under his skin. He threw the thing on the ground and stomped on it, Sasha already pulling him after her so he wouldn’t get swarmed with more.

As they neared the break room, they saw Tim’s head pop out. He was holding his own canister, as was Martin, who was right behind him, looking out with disgust into the mess that the main space of the archives was becoming.

“Go! Get out!” Jon shouted, and Sasha began to spray the area around them as they ran, stomping on single ones when she could. Tim made to leave the room just as the door to the archives burst open. A small flood of worms came through, along with the horrid outline of a person. Their skin was pale and riddled with squirming holes, ragged clothes slightly soggy looking. Jon took a stumbling step back and cursed. Sasha tried to grab him, but he managed to mostly right himself on his own. They were close to the door, as were Tim and Martin on the other side, and Jon’s mind was racing with ways they could escape or stop Prentiss, but he wasn’t getting any supernatural visions at this point. He just knew they needed to get out and pull the fire alarm. Realizing he was on his own now, he panicked and began to spray all the worms he could see, releasing strangled noises of stress. He looked up at Tim and Martin with wild eyes, hoping they could follow suit. To his horror, Tim had his eyes locked on Prentiss. He moved forward with determination, his fire extinguisher raised. Sasha had noticed his plan and began to run toward her as well.

“No!” Jon shouted, as Martin yelled for Tim to stop. There was no way the two of them would be able to stop her with simple co2. Martin was still half in the doorway to the breakroom, gingerly stepping out and spraying worms, looking for a path to relative safety. He and Jon both saw the storage room door, but Jon knew there was no exit from there. They would be trapped, hopefully without worms, but trapped, nonetheless. His indecision had made its choice, though, as the worms were getting more concentrated in front of him now, forming a barrier between he and Martin, and Tim and Sasha. He turned back to see Tim spraying a path towards Prentiss, and Sasha doing the same from her side. Prentiss had raised her arms and Jon thought he could hear her voice, but the worms and the pained sounds of the four of them made such a ruckus that he couldn’t make it out clearly.

Tim finally reached his intended area, but his extinguisher was only coughing up weak bursts of air. Tim realized his canister was empty as Jon’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t just watch, as the worms were making their way towards Jon, and he felt them touch his ankles. He sprayed them and started running towards the storage room, Martin already near the door. He turned to see Sasha spraying Prentiss herself, and he heard a terrible shrieking sound, amplified even by the worms nearest him. Prentiss turned wildly toward Sasha and the worms reacted in kind, but Tim saw his opportunity and took it, swinging the empty canister as hard as he could into Prentiss’s head.

“Jon! Look out!” He heard Martin’s voice from behind him, and barely had time to register the wave coming at him from his side before diving out of the way. He could feel unseen things finding their way into his skin, mostly his forearms where he had caught himself when he fell. He stumbled to his feet and nearly dove into the storage room. Martin had the door held open for him, and he closed it as soon as Jon was inside. It was cool and clean in there, and Martin fell against the wall behind him, breathing heavily and looking out the window of the room.

“Tim got out! And Sasha, they both did. He pulled her away from Prentiss!” He exclaimed, and Jon felt relief as he sunk to his knees. He began to furiously pull half-embedded worms from his arms, his fingers shaking with the stress and pain.

“Oh, let me help!” Martin chirped, grabbing something from the drawer of the desk. It was a corkscrew, and Jon nearly whimpered at the sight of it.

After a couple moments of agony, he and Martin had managed to remove all the worms they could find from Jon’s arms, which were now incredibly sore. Jon sighed and sat back against the wall across from Martin, who had reclaimed his set on his cot to keep an eye out the window.

“Is she still there?” Jon asked, knowing the answer but wanting confirmation.

“Yeah, and she seems real pissed off. She’s throwing worms at everything. She doesn’t seem that hurt, though.” He said, his face worried. Jon nodded, relieved that she hadn’t chased after Tim and Sasha. They were going to get help and hopefully activate the co2 system they had set up for this very situation. He hated that Sasha had run out, his mind sending him nothing but _Sasha’s in danger! Sasha’s in danger!_ But he was strangely comforted that Tim had joined her. They could keep each other safe. They had to.

Sensing something important behind him, Jon turned and looked at the back wall of the room. He frowned. That wall was hiding something. He closed his eyes. Not _hiding something_ per se, but it needed to be moved. His head tingled as he realized they could access the tunnels through there. Before, or rather, in one future, Tim came through there, but that wouldn't happen now. They would have to get through on their own.


	12. Hell - Martin

This was Martin’s personal hell, as far as he could tell. The threat of the worms had been haunting him since he had first had the misfortune of laying eyes on Jane Prentiss. He hated that he was trapped by her again, but he was relieved that he wasn’t alone this time, and that his friends were going to get help. She didn’t seem to be interested in them either, preferring to puke goo into the boxes of files and shake worms at everything. He spared a glance at Jon, who was staring at the back wall with an intense look of concentration. Martin expected the thing to crumble under the man’s glare, but it stayed put, and Jon seemed to grow tenser.

“Jon?” He asked, attempting to check in on him.

“Yes?” He asked, broken out of his trance for a moment.

“Are you alright? Or, you know, relatively so?” Jon looked at Martin with a blank expression.

“No, Martin. I don’t think I am.” He said, giving Martin a very tired look.

“Okay, right, I know, this all sucks very much, _Jon_ , thank you, but you know what I mean.” He said, tired of Jon’s constant doom and gloom as of late.

“I do, actually. You’re right. And nothing is going well right now, _Martin_.” He replied with equal attitude. It was strange to see Jon on the floor, looking up at Martin, who was easily nearly a foot taller than him, acting so testy. He seemed to feel that he had the power no matter what he was doing, and it made Martin hot with anger.

“You are so maddening sometimes! You can’t just act like we should all know what’s going on when you don’t tell us anything. You say you’re having visions, or dreams, or whatever, and they could be useful, but you held it all to yourself, and now we’re stuck here! Did you know this was going to happen?” He exploded, feeling only marginally guilty for his outburst.

“No! I wouldn’t willingly put you all in danger! I’m not a monster.” He retorted, curling in on himself. Martin cursed himself for making him think so.

“I know you’re not, that’s not what I meant. I just –” He tried to gather his thoughts, and Jon stayed silent. “I just want you to talk to us. You can’t make these things go away by ignoring them.” He finished, and Jon’s pose loosened.

“You’re right.” He said, surprising Martin. “I wanted to ignore them. I tried to. They… they scare me. All of this does. But I think they could possibly work out to be… beneficial.”

“Really?” He asked, perking up at the idea.

“Hopefully. Hopefully it’s not just some awful trap.” He murmured, almost to himself.

“Are… are the visions bad?” Martin asked, and Jon rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Of course, they’re bad.” He said, sounding absolutely exhausted.

“Right, but, you can see the future, now, right? So you can see how we get out of this?”

“I can… I can sort of see what would have happened if I hadn’t said anything. If I hadn’t told Tim to stay.”

“Which is?” Martin pressed desperately.

“It’s complicated. There’s a lot to explain. Tim would’ve burst through that wall in a couple minutes, but as it is, we might have to do that ourselves.”

“Tim would – what? I thought that wall just led to – to dirt?” Martin eyed the wall suspiciously, as if it might crumble under the weight of worms if not Jon’s glare.

“Apparently not.” Jon sighed, and Martin frowned.

“Have you seen _anything_ good in your visions?” Martin asked, worried for the man. Jon shook his head.

“No. It’s not a forgiving place, the future. I see a wasteland. There’s no hope or comfort. There’s only terror, and I’m at the center of it.” He said with a shaky breath. Martin didn’t know how to handle hearing the upsetting news. He wanted nothing more than to reach out for Jon, to try to console him, but moving would require losing his view out the tiny smudged window.

“The center? What do you mean?” Jon looked down at his feet, examining the worm guts on his once shiny shoes.

“It’s my fault. Whatever happens. I cause it, I think.” He said quietly, and Martin froze.

“No, way.” He breathed, “How’s that even possible?” Jon just shook his head.

“I’m not sure. I can’t see all of it yet. Just bits and pieces that lead to a barren end.” He intoned, and Martin peaked back out the window at Prentiss, who was lurking in a corner near a filing cabinet.

“That’s awful.” He said quietly, “Being all alone in a nightmare world. It must be lonely.” Jon furrowed his brows for a moment, and looked up at Martin with mild surprise, as if he were remembering something particularly startling, but not altogether unpleasant.

“Actually, I don’t think I am alone there. I… I have someone with me. Someone I love.” He said, startling Martin with his statement. He hadn’t thought he’d hear Jon talk about loving someone today, but his life was apparently full of surprises. Martin noticed a very strange and faraway look on the other man’s face, though he was staring right at Martin, or through him, it seemed. His expression looked somewhere between sour and thoughtful, and Martin wondered how much he really loved this mysterious future partner if that was the face he made thinking about them. 

“Wow. Well that’s… good, I think. No one ought to have to suffer alone.” Martin said, and Jon’s expression became sadder.

“No. They shouldn’t.” He agreed, voice shaking slightly as his eyes came back into focus. After a moment of silence, Jon attempted to get up without using his arms too much. Martin stood as Jon did, and Jon gestured to the empty co2 canister in the room.

“Grab that.” He ordered, and Martin did so without hesitation.

“Can you smash the wall?” He asked, and Martin shrugged.

“I can try, I suppose.” He said, inching towards the wall apprehensively.

“Good. We’ll want to be out of the way when Tim and Sasha get the gas activated.” He said, and Martin hummed a note of agreement before raising the extinguisher and slamming it into the surprisingly flimsy wall with all his might.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the jmart dialogue in ep. 39 so much so it was actually really hard to write my own and pretend the other convo didn't happen here. Soon I'll be onto more original stuff and all the convos will be completely made up with nothing parallel to erase from canon so that's exciting! But here's to the loss of "A ghost? Really?" in my universe ... you will be missed


	13. Coin - Sasha

Running upstairs was not an activity Sasha enjoyed. Her heart was beating as fast as it possibly could go as she followed Tim out of the Archives and onto the main floor. They emerged in the hall between the lobby and the library, and Sasha’s ears rung with the silence of the level. Nobody in the building knew what was going on downstairs, and if the worms continued to come out from the floors and walls as quickly as they had, then they would be up there soon as well. Tim slowed his pace halfway down the hall before turning back to look at Sasha.

“Come on!” He said, running back to grab her hand. She allowed it, latching onto him in return.

“We need to get everyone out, _now_.” She said breathlessly, and she looked around as Tim continued to move. She finally spotted a fire alarm near a tall plant and ran to pull it, the sound immediately blaring.

“Good thinking. Now _c’mon_.” He insisted, but Sasha held her ground.

“We need to get help. Jon and Martin are still down there, and I know we didn’t kill her.” She said, glancing back at the stairwell with worry. Expecting to see the lumbering outline of Prentiss creeping up from below, the sight of the ordinary stairwell was almost equally unnerving. She wasn’t sure the doors down there would hold for long, but they were eerily still, no evidence of what lurked beyond visible.

“I know! So, call the police or something, and let’s get to safety!” Tim pleaded. He was holding Sasha’s hand with both of his.

“What are police going to do to stop a bunch of worms?” She asked disbelievingly, her voice nearly drowned out by the blaring alarm. The library doors were pushed open, and a small stream of people were making their way out towards the lobby, most of them with confused or concerned expressions on their faces. No one paid She and Tim any mind, which suited her fine.

“Who in this building can do anything better?” Tim countered, and Sasha had to think for a moment. Her hand brushed against something in her sweater pocket. She reached in to feel the envelope from that morning. It seemed like it had been much longer than just a few hours since she got the strange message. Whoever delivered it must have known that Prentiss would be coming today, as it was too perfect of a coincidence for a warning about Jon’s fate to come on the same day as the biggest threat any of them had ever faced. She reached into the envelope for the coin. The imprint of the eye was discernable against her fingers, but the other side had only vague grooves. She tried to feel what it might have once been, but it was difficult to try to see with only one’s fingers. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to imagine what it was. An idea flashed across her mind like an arrow. It went too quickly for her to quite catch it. She took a breath and tried to see it again, using the coin in her hand to ground her. _The CO2 fire suppression system._ She could almost see it in her mind’s eye…

The noise of the fire alarm startled Sasha out of her reverie, Tim’s worried face looming in her vision as she blinked back into reality.

“Do you want to find Elias?” He asked, and she immediately shook her head.

“No. No, I don’t.” She said forcefully, surprising herself. It wasn’t as if it were a bad idea, but it felt very wrong. Tim seemed exasperated.

“We need to do something!” He said, bouncing in place with his desire to move, to do anything. Sasha knew he hated feeling stuck. She tried to wrack her brain for details. It was hard to remember any useful information with the alarm screaming for them to get out.

“Wait, wait, what were Jon and Martin talking about last week? A worm contingency plan?” She asked, holding onto the new memory in her mind. She was rubbing furious circles onto the coin in her pocket, as it seemed to be helping her think.

“Uh, shit, uh, it was a failsafe for something like this!” Tim said, already on the same wavelength.

“… oh! The fire suppression system! It uses CO2 now.” She said, and the coin felt warm between her fingers.

“So, if we can turn it on in the archives –” He started.

“Then the whole place will act as a giant fire extinguisher! That’s got to kill her. And the worms.” She finished, nodding excitedly.

“Alright, where’re the controls for that?” Tim’s excitement disappeared.

“Uh, it should be on this floor. Let’s try past the bathrooms down there. There should be a boiler room or a breaker room or something.” Sasha surprised herself, not sure how exactly she knew. She supposed it was an educated guess. As she made to turn down the hall, she was surprised to see Elias standing right in their way. He had to just have come out through the library doors, one the last few people who had been in the upper levels finally heading out the door.

“Tim, Sasha. Just leaving, are we?” He asked. “You haven’t seen the fire, have you?” Tim nearly walked straight into him in his hurry to get down the hall.

“No, no, not that, we were actually trying – ” Sasha began, wondering how to quickly summarize the encounter they had down there.

“You both seem rather worked up.” He continued, his calm making Sasha uneasy.

“Sorry, boss, no time to explain.” Tim interrupted, scooting past Elias with determination.

“Don’t go down to the archives! It’s Prentiss! And the worms!” Sasha shouted over her shoulder. Elias’s face showed disbelief and what Sasha thought might have been a flash of anger before Tim dragged them down the hall and around the corner. Sasha wondered why Elias hadn’t seemed to be in any hurry to get out the door. For all he knew, there could have been a fire.

“That was bold.” She said to Tim as he opened the door to the storage room. “He ought to know what’s going on in his own institute,” Sasha grumbled, but Tim ignored her complaints, instead looking around the walls for the system switch.

“We’ll have plenty of time to catch him up after we save the others,” Tim said, and he brightened when he found the marked box on the wall. Sasha watched with her hand still in her pocket as Tim swore and fidgeted with the levers.

“I did it, now let’s get going!” He said.

“Right.” She said distractedly, not wanting to let go of the coin, but knowing she wouldn’t be able to focus on it any longer with the noise and the running. If Tim noticed her odd behavior, he didn’t care enough to mention it. They left the institute just as the fire brigade and ambulances arrived. They moved off to the side of the building where a few of the others had gathered, including Rosie, Selena, and even Elias, who Sasha noticed was staring at her with an oddly appraising look. She broke his eye contact as quickly as she could and instead leaned into Tim’s side as he wrapped an arm around her, and they waited to discover their friends’ fates. Tim felt tense, his body rigid as he watched the institute as if he were hoping to suddenly see through its walls. She was less tense herself, as she continued to play with the coin in her pocket. Though she had no reason to, she felt rather confident that Jon and Martin would make it out fine.


	14. Tuesday - Tim

Tim had a philosophy that Tuesdays were the worst days of the week, as it was the first day that one had worked the day before and still had the rest of the week to go. He thought Mondays were fine since the weekend was still pushing him forward, allowing him to feel well-rested and ready for the week’s challenges. Inevitably, though, working in the archives would bring his mood down, and on Tuesday morning he would wonder why he ever let Jon talk him into moving over from research. This particular Tuesday was especially bad, as it was his second day back to work after the Prentiss incident. He wasn’t as beat up as Jon was, he knew that. None of them were. His ankles had the worst of it, then his arms. He had a few marks on his neck and shoulders, but they were small and would likely heal up nicely. At least, that’s what the paramedics had said. Sasha had said that a few scars were a bonus for a bad boy vibe, which had Tim wondering if that was her way of saying she thought it was a good look for him.

Apart from the physical scars, Tim knew this would leave a brand in his mind forever. How could it not? Not only had a supernatural entity attacked them for the second time in two months, if he included the ‘prophet,’ but Martin and Jon had also discovered Gertrude Robinson’s body hidden within the labyrinth of tunnels under the institute. Beyond that, Jon had begun to furiously describe any tidbits of information he could glean from his dreams to them, dumping them first into their rarely used group chat, and then eventually moving to emails when the texts got too long. He said that things were different now, that he couldn’t guess what was still likely to occur, but he knew certain things to avoid doing, and for the most part, Sasha and Martin were happy to comply. Tim was not. He was furious that he had been convinced to stay in the institute when he could’ve been out; they all could’ve gone out and avoided it. If nothing else, he was now firmer in his beliefs that anything that had to do with these otherworldly forces, or the ‘pantheon of fears,’ as Jon was now calling them after wildly describing the concept to them, was not to be trusted. If Jon was buying into their tricks, then he was no better than one of their puppets, especially if he couldn’t interpret them enough to give them good advice.

He hadn’t told Sasha how he really felt about all this, yet. They had both honestly needed the time to heal up before he decided to dump more conspiracy theories on her, especially if he were to convince her that Jon was compromised. She seemed oddly at ease with the whole situation, using all her free time to research anything she could about these fears and the sort-of-cults that sprung up around them. She only told him about her findings when he asked, though, which he appreciated. Tim recognized mentions of some of these groups through statements he had read or worked on; The People’s Church of the Divine Host, the Lightless Flame… it was all useless, though. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with Danny. He finished buttoning his shirt and avoided looking in the mirror. He wouldn’t necessarily say he was vain, but the sight of his skin covered in bandages and small wounds was not pleasant in any way. He looked enough like his brother that seeing himself hurt made him think about him hurt, and he didn’t need to deal with that on top of everything else.

At the moment, their current problem was apparently Elias. Jon had been acting very strangely the day before, and whenever any one of them tried to discuss what was going on in the archives he would shush them and quickly talk about staying on task, but he would shoot them a text saying they’d discuss it later. Sasha was extremely frustrated but allowed it to happen. Martin was more than happy to play along. Tim was honestly still tired. He didn’t think he’d stop feeling this tired anytime soon.

Being in the archives made him nervous, now. It wasn’t as if the place hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned and repaired, as it had been, but Tim constantly felt like he was being watched. He knew why now, thanks to Jon, but knowing it only made it worse. He had wanted them all to quit, but Jon told them it was impossible to do so without harming themselves. Tim wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but for now, he supposed they should try to wait and see what new craziness Jon would spring on them that day.

It was almost worse when he arrived a little late as normal, and nothing was different. Sasha and Martin were sat at their desks, Jon was hidden away in his office, and there was a small stack of files on his desk. Tim sighed and sat down. Sasha was typing away on her laptop, and Martin, much to Tim’s surprise, was reading a book as opposed to the statement on his desk.

“What have you got there, Martin?” He asked, curious. Though he wasn’t usually a very efficient worker, he never intentionally did other things. Maybe all of the stress was getting to him. Martin looked startled at Tim’s comment and looked anxiously at Sasha for a moment.

“Ah… did you see Jon’s email?” Martin asked, and Tim frowned.

“Did he send another this morning?” Martin nodded. “No, I must have missed it.” He in fact had not missed it but had chosen to ignore it as he was not looking forward to another disjointed explanation of rituals and how they might need to be stopped, but not all of them, and not all the time… Tim noticed Sasha raise an eyebrow.

“And no one’s going to just tell me what it says?” He asked in exasperation. Both of his coworkers shook their heads, so Tim pulled out his phone and opened the message. _New Developments_ was the subject line.

_Morning,_

_I Know that leaving the archives for extended periods of time will harm us, so, unfortunately, we cannot stay away from this place. That doesn’t mean we have to work for it, though. I encourage you all to bring something to do apart from your real work here. We mustn’t discuss it at the institute as Elias is able to watch us. I am not sure how or what he can and cannot see, but I know that we cannot trust him as I previously explained. Until I am able to remember more, I suggest we all find small acts of defiance to engage in. We might as well have some fun with it, but please do be careful. And avoid being too loud or obvious. I don’t want us to call attention to ourselves without a plan._

_Sincerely,_

_Jon_

Tim actually laughed. Maybe Jon wasn’t as much of a pawn as he had been worrying that he was. _Small acts of defiance_ , huh? Tim could absolutely do that. He caught Sasha’s smirk with one of his own as he popped his feet up on his desk and kicked the statements off, watching the papers scatter across the floor. Martin giggled a bit at that, and Tim flashed him a smile as well. He had no idea if he actually believed that stuffy old Elias was some sort of beholding avatar, but he did know it was fun to break rules and piss off establishment. This was exactly the kind of thing he could get behind. Maybe Jon’s visions did have an upside.


	15. (Un)comfortable - Jon

Healing was a nightmare. Jon’s body ached and itched, and he knew that the others had wounds as well, but his arms were especially bad. He couldn’t flex his fingers without stretching out a healing hole, and he couldn’t let them sit still for too long without feeling a wildly concerning tickle. He was told that his hands weren’t damaged beyond use and that they would heal as long as he rested properly. Not doing a lot with his arms was extremely challenging, to say the least. At first, it was plain torture. He had thought he would go crazy alone in his flat without anyone to talk to, so he had begun reaching out to the others on the daily. He didn’t want to bother them or seem unprofessional, despite that fact that there was very little professionalism to be found in the archives at this point, so he tended to prefer on-topic emails or group texts to everyone rather than individual messages. That didn’t stop Tim, Sasha, and Martin from each checking in with him individually, though, and it would be rude to ignore their messages, so he did end up responding to those as well.

He was still full of guilt for allowing the others to come to harm when he had the ability to see what was going to happen. He didn’t know exactly what was going to occur, of course, but once he let himself really take a look at the bits he did remember from his vision, it made it easier to put things together. His denial and skepticism had hurt them, and himself, and he was going to make up for it by putting his faith in these visions, as gruesome as they were. Sasha was the most supportive of this and was constantly asking him questions about it, asking what it was like to _Know_ something versus just knowing it. He suspected that she might even be a little jealous of his new ability, though he doubted she would have wanted to go through the process of receiving the initial vision. Nevertheless, they got into quite interesting discussions about seeing the future, alternate timelines, discerning what _is_ happening from what _could_ happen, and the like. He had also realized that he felt much less fear for her as he had before, and he confided in her that he suspected they had averted a situation that would have resulted in her death. Sasha was obviously pleased with this news, though she doubted that she would have been the first to die.

The conversation was rekindled a while later during a lunch break. They had all left the institute to eat together, as Jon was still wary of speaking freely in the archives, and the others requested his company. It was a nice feeling to be included, though it did diminish his sense of authority, which, he had finally decided, was not as important as keeping close tabs on all of them. They certainly seemed to appreciate the change in his demeanor, however slight.

“Any world in which I die before someone as reckless as Tim sounds fake,” Sasha said, eliciting a hurt noise from Tim.

“Are we really doing ‘most likely to die’ nominations?” He asked, and Sasha nodded solemnly.

“I mean, there’s really no point. I can just tell you the answers.” Jon interjected, seeing an argument brewing.

“No, no, let’s hear the ranking and the reasoning. I’m intrigued.” Tim said, and Sasha smiled.

“Putting aside the tacky horror movie trope that the black character gets killed off first, I think I’m much too clever to die in the first act.” She said, and Tim huffed a laugh.

“I doubt any horror movie would care to be as diverse as our little band. Martin’s our token white man, and he’s not even straight. The audience’s heads would explode.” He said, and Sasha and Martin laughed as he mimed said explosion. Jon hesitated for a moment before joining the other’s laughter, something in him still wary about Tim and explosions, though he didn’t know if they had avoided that situation yet.

“Of course, none of us are straight, are we?” Tim asked, looking around the table with wiggling eyebrows. Sasha shook her head with a quizzical expression, Martin sat undisturbed, a small smile on his face, and Jon made no move to refute the assumption. He didn’t have a lot of dating experience, but he didn’t really care to, either. Georgie had been his longest-term relationship, but he had no true preferences when it came to gender. None of it really mattered to him very often. He never bothered with labels, but he knew he certainly wasn't straight. Tim caught his even expression with a grin of his own, warm brown eyes giving him a quickly appraising look before nodding to himself contentedly.

“Excellent. We need to have more queer brunches.” He said, and Sasha sputtered a laugh.

“I mean, technically, any meal we eat is queer.” She said, and even Jon laughed a little at that. It was nice to just enjoy other people’s company, to laugh and joke with them, even if he was mostly watching the conversation rather than participating. 

“True, true. But let’s get back on track. Sasha, your rankings?” Tim prompted.

My personal belief is that you would be the first to go.” She said to Tim. “If I hadn’t distracted Prentiss, your method would have been bludgeoning her with an empty canister, and I doubt that would’ve have worked out very well for you without me.” She said, and Tim scoffed.

“Alright, well by that logic, if I hadn’t smashed her with it, you would’ve been swarmed by worms and wouldn’t have been able to jump past them out the door. We needed each other.” He said, and she made a face in return.

“Alright, we’re being too specific.” She said, putting up a hand to block further comments. “Let’s go broader. I think Tim would go first, then Jon, then myself, and then Martin.” Jon was about to protest when Martin made a triumphant sound. Sasha waved the cacophony of arguments away.

“Hah! I survive?” Martin asked, and Sasha put up a finger.

“Not necessarily, you’d just be the last of us to die.” She said, and some of his energy deflated.

“Oh. Why me?” He asked, and Sasha got a gleam in her eye.

“Well, I think Tim is too likely to run headfirst into something or pick a fight he can’t win. I think Jon is… well, somewhat similarly, I think he’s likely to assume he can handle a situation he can’t. I know I’m too curious for my own good, but I trust my survival instincts. Martin, though, is very cautious, very smart, and also the least argumentative of the four of us, so I can’t see him pissing any creatures off very badly, Prentiss notwithstanding.” Jon was interested in Sasha’s analysis despite himself. He found this conversation to be a bit too morbid for his liking. It was too… real. Too close to what he was already dealing with. He had to take these factors into account when trying to change their future. And, although she wasn’t quite accurate, she was fairly close to it. Tim would have been the next to die, and Jon knew he would sustain some sort of injury of his own at the same time. Martin would last the longest out of all of them. He looked at the man across from him, his rosy cheeks, gray eyes, kind smile. He couldn’t see his death, but he could sense something sad. Most likely it was the burden of the loss of the rest of them, though he didn’t quite know how the two of them would get separated. Jon would have to make sure to stay close to him, just to make sure he didn’t drift away. A purely preemptive measure.

“Well, I don’t think you’re too far off, Sash. I think you and I are tied, as the Prentiss incident showed us. If I had to wager a guess, I’d say we go down together, though we likely can’t be killed unless we’re cleverly divided. Next would be Martin, as I think he’s a little too soft, and he wouldn’t be able to win a fight if he got into one. Jon obviously outlives us all, as he can literally see the future.” He said, leaning back in his chair and popping a chip into his mouth. Martin sputtered a rebuttal.

“You think I couldn’t win a fight?” He asked, and Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe you could, but at what cost?” He asked, seeming amused. Martin straightened in his seat.

“I could, and I have, before. I just don’t like to.” He said, and Sasha cocked her head to the side.

“You’ve been in a fight? And won?” She asked again, and Martin snapped his attention to her.

“Is this really so hard to believe? I am not small. I’m taller than everyone but Tim. I can put my weight behind a punch.” He argued, and finally glanced questioningly at Jon, who had been silent for too long, apparently.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t see you doing a lot of fighting in the future.” He said, wondering how true that really was. He saw a bit of Martin in his visions, little scenes here and there, but they always petered out after a while, becoming less distinct. It almost worried him more than seeing a clear death. Almost.

“Well, that’s good. Cause I’m not a fan of unnecessary violence.” He said, and Tim punched him jokingly in the arm.

“What about you, Martin? Think you’d survive the longest with your battle prowess?” Tim asked, and Martin frowned, his laughter gone.

“God, this is morbid, isn’t it? We just made it out of a life-threatening situation. I dunno. I mean, I hope we all survive together. I don’t like thinking about having to move on without someone.” He said, and Tim and Sasha both made noises of regret and protest. Jon had to agree with his sentiment.

“Alright, Jon, it’s your turn,” Sasha said when it was clear Martin didn’t want to participate, and they all turned to look at him. He furrowed his brows.

“Do you want my guess or the real answer?” He asked.

“Just your opinion. Though I guess it could be the truth, and we wouldn’t know.” Tim added, and Jon frowned.

“I’d rather not dwell on it unless I’m actively trying to avoid someone’s death.” He said, flashes of loss and hurt hitting him in bursts as his brain ran through their absences. As much as they had posed it as a joke, trying to make light of their situation, this was not a fun topic. Tim looked like he was about to argue it, but Sasha quickly distracted him by throwing a chip from her own plate at him. He picked it up off his shirt and ate it, shutting him up for the moment.

“Alright, they’re right. We’re being weird and macabre.” Sasha decided, Jon shot her a grateful half-smile. The two of them had been talking more than the others lately, and she was becoming someone Jon trusted a lot, not just with the supernatural, but with himself. She smiled at him in return, and he contentedly picked at his own meal, finally remembering the point of their outing was, in fact, food, as good as they were at getting off-topic. As they continued to laugh and joke around, Jon realized that for the first time in a long while, he actually felt safe, and apart from the itchiness of the slowly mending scars on his arms, rather comfortable.


	16. Liar - Sasha

Sasha was going to have to admit to herself that she did, in fact, like lying. She liked keeping secrets, which is why she was so good at it, and she liked, above all else, knowing that she was more in the know than anyone else around her. She wanted to be the most informed person in the room. She was also curious to a fault, which she had always known about herself, but it was really coming to light after she had managed to heal up adequately from the Prentiss incident.

She had been using the coin in her pocket to try to determine mundane things, idly rubbing it when people watching, getting glimpses of people tripping, and waiting to see if the events came true as predicted. She was getting better at using it, faster at interpreting the messages it sent her. She was also having her curiosity sated by the fact that Jon had requested her help in going through the tapes that he and Martin had found in the room with Gertrude’s body. There had been hundreds of them, apparently, and he and Martin had managed to hide about twenty of them away from the police before they took them as evidence. Even with that advantage, Jon had been talking to an officer who had been on the scene and was sure he would be getting more of the tapes soon. She and Jon had been listening to them, confirming some theories Jon had proposed and crossing out others. It was as fascinating a project as it was terrifying, learning the confusing truths of the dark world they were in, and Sasha was nearly satisfied with it.

The future was a fascinating puzzle, as was attempting to alter it, and it should have been enough to use up all her focus, but time and time again, she found herself wondering about Cass. They hadn’t made any appearances since their first interaction with them at the institute, and Sasha had already tried to find them many times to no avail. She didn’t have a lot to go off of, but she was used to that from her time in artefact storage, research, and the archives. After many hours of dead ends and not knowing where to look, she was about ready to give up. She had found a couple of individuals who might have been Cass before they became whatever they were now. There was one Cassandra Blakely, a late 19th-century artist who disappeared under mysterious circumstances and had self-reported prophetic dreams that she had tried to portray with her art. There was also Caspian Laforêt, a French military medic from the 1700s. There was no real reason for her to look into this particular person further, as all records showed he had died in a battle, but for some reason, Sasha couldn’t let this self-proclaimed prophet drop from her mind. She knew that Jon’s warnings had likely saved her from some dark fate, but she also knew that those warnings were a gift from this mysterious stranger. She attempted to use the coin for guidance, but it seemed limited to information about the present and very-near-future rather than the past. Whenever she looked for a way to meet Cass, it was silent. She didn’t know if that meant it was impossible, but she wasn’t satisfied with that answer. She had one method left to try, as she had been avoiding the address the coin had come with. For some reason, following the instructions she was given made her wary that she would have the coin seized from her, or that some very final action would be taken. “ _If something happens to him_ ” she recalled, and yet again wondered why she was responsible for ‘ _him_.’ She was loathe to rid herself of her supernatural token, but if that was what it took to get even clearer answers, then she supposed she was ready to make that trade.

She had no idea what she should be looking for as she entered the park. It was mid-morning on a Saturday. She had no plans for a couple of hours, free until she went to Tim’s for a much-needed movie marathon. The park was relatively small, but there was enough room for groups to spread out without feeling crowded. It wasn’t busy that morning, and she tried to scan the area for any notable landmarks. She wandered around for a while, enjoying the light breeze, stopping by oddly shaped trees, following the perimeter. She had no way of contacting anyone helpful, as she still didn’t actually know who had sent this to her. She fully expected to see the elusive Cass sitting primly on a park bench, waiting patiently for her. She did not see them, though, and after a few minutes, she was beginning to feel rather foolish for following cryptic advice alone, with no one to back her up. Maybe she needed to reconsider her ‘most likely to die’ rankings.

She eventually spotted the small fountain that sat towards the back of the park under two large trees. This was as fit a place as any to wait for an unknown event, she decided, and she sat on the stone rim, admiring the gently trickling water. There were a few pennies at the bottom of the fountain, and she mused that it must be a wishing-well. She nervously turned her own coin over in her pocket, looking for guidance. As fitting a scene as it might have made for her to flip the coin into the water, she refused to part with it so trivially. She calmed her mind and allowed herself to listen to its gentle murmuring, overlapping with the sound of the fountain. The idle noise was something she could tune into when nothing pressing was happening. She let herself fall under its lull, hearing snippets of nonsense around her. _He’s bored, isn’t he?_ She felt it more than heard it. _I hope I’m not late._ She thought that one must be from someone in a car; it was quieter, farther away. _He can see you_. That one wasn’t from another person. Not a stray but harmless thought; that was from the coin itself, a warning. She snapped her eyes open and looked around, her grip tightening on the rough edge of her stone seat. She didn’t notice any alarming figures nearby, and she snuck her hand back out of her pocket, attempting to stay very alert. No one came near her, though, and the park was just as calm as when she arrived.

It had been barely a half an hour, and she thought she ought to give it some more time, but she was also very bored, as she hadn’t brought anything to do while there. She was also anxious to forget about all this and enjoy some quality time with her best friend, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to completely put it out of her mind until she found _something_. She took a deep breath and stood, deciding she would go back to her computer and research the history of the park. She looked up at the path that led to the entrance to see Elias, of all people, walking toward her. He was dressed smartly but casually. She didn’t think it possible for him to wear anything other than a button-down, and she was glad she didn’t have to have that image of him marred by seeing him in some sort of awful t-shirt. He seemed to notice she was there with a polite expression of surprise, but Sasha knew it was an act. Well, she assumed it was, since Jon didn’t trust him. He had told her what he knew; that in the future he could see, the future they were changing, Elias used them and did not care for them past how he could manipulate them into aiding him in his plans. Albeit Jon didn’t know exactly what his plans were, but they were decidedly evil, in his eyes, and likely pertained to the end of the world.

Sasha had barely a moment to decide how she was to approach the situation and instinctively settled for a simple nod in Elias’s direction.

“Sasha, what a pleasant surprise.” He said once he neared her, and she wanted very badly to roll her eyes.

“Elias. What brings you here on this fine morning?” She asked, not quite capable of eradicating all the sarcasm from her voice. If he minded, he didn’t make show of it.

“I often come here on the weekends. It’s a very peaceful area, and I rather like to people-watch.” He said with a gleam in his eye, and Sasha nearly recoiled from him. She didn’t know if it was Jon’s warnings or just his own vibe, but she was feeling extremely apprehensive, though thankfully not threatened.

“How lovely. I hope you enjoy that. I was just leaving.” She said, hastily testing an idea she had. Elias quirked a quizzical brow.

“So soon? Well, I wouldn’t mind the company if you needed someone to walk you out.” He suggested, and she felt triumphant that her assumption was correct. He _had_ planned on seeing her here, and he likely had something to say to her. He must have left her the letter and the coin. She nodded her assent, mind racing with how to ask for what she wanted without being too obvious. _Did you send the coin? Why? What is your evil plan?_

“How are the others holding up? I’m afraid I’ve been too busy to check in with the archive as often as I’d like to.” He said, and her surety faltered slightly.

“They’re all fine, I guess. Healing up nicely.” She said, not wanting to give any details she didn’t have to. Jon was going to go crazy when she told him about this. _If_ she told him about this. She hadn’t mentioned the coin thus far, and it would seem slightly suspect to bring it up after all this time.

“And yourself?” He asked, and she plastered on a smile.

“I wasn’t really injured. I didn’t have it nearly as bad as Jon.” She said, attempting to turn the conversation to him. Elias hummed at that and narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

“Is he having a hard time? Something else happen to him?” Elias asked, and Sasha was on the edge of breaking, but if he wasn’t going to explicitly bring it up, then neither would she. She realized with frustration that neither of them was likely to show their cards first.

“No, I suppose not. Just the general stress of running the archives.” She stated tightly.

“Of course. You all have a lot of work to do. Must not be a lot of downtime.” He said, and she felt that he must be testing her. They did a lot of work, though it was no longer work assigned by the institute.

“Yes, well, we do it together. Makes it go by faster.” She said, wondering if it had always been this exhausting to talk to him, or if this was new.

“I’m glad you’re all looking out for each other. It must make you feel safer.” He intoned, and Sasha started. If that wasn’t a threat, then she was getting much too paranoid. Not trusting herself to comment, she simply hummed and kept her eyes ahead.

They slowed their pace as they approached the entrance to the park. They were still engaged in whatever game she had agreed to by talking to him, and she wasn’t sure how to end it properly. She also was unsatisfied, as she hadn’t confirmed anything apart from Elias seeming like he was as much of a smarmy businessman outside of work as he was at the institute. What she needed were _answers_. As if on cue, she felt her hand idly rubbing the blank side of the coin, not having realized that her hand had wandered to the object. She heard a murmur that sounded very much like ‘ _behind you,’_ and tried to pretend she merely needed to stretch around. She couldn’t see anything of note from her brief glance but steeled herself from looking directly. She didn’t want to start spinning wildly and tip Elias off.

“Something on your mind?” He asked, a slight edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“No,” She said, a little too quickly. “I mean, yes, sorry. I have a date this afternoon. Don’t want to be too late getting ready.” She lied, and Elias graciously allowed her the excuse.

“Of course. I shan’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your date.” He said, and Sasha immediately regretted that particular alibi. Why had she lied again? It would have been easy to say she was going to a friend’s, to see Tim, even, but her instincts were telling her to divert his attention and his knowledge.

“Thank you. See you at work.” She said with hopefully her last forced smile of the day.

“Be seeing you.” He said, and he turned back into the park. Once his eyes were off her she turned around fully, but she couldn’t find whatever it was that the coin had alerted her to. There was a man walking a dog, a couple sitting on a bench, but nothing alarming or out of the ordinary. Cursing to herself for missing it, she kept an eye peeled as she took to the sidewalk. She looked down in each direction, but she saw no evidence of the hooded figure she was hoping for. Disappointed, she decided that she should head over to Tim’s as soon as she could. She didn’t want to let this take over her life, if it hadn’t already. She was going to stop once she got to Tim's, she just needed to head back to her own flat first and get her pajamas. She fully intended on spending the night, as no movie-marathon was complete in their eyes without a sleepover. 

Despite her intention to forget it, she began texting Jon as she got onto the tube. Jon’s reply was quick, as always. He was not one to ignore a message.

_Hey_

_Morning. What’s up?_

_Just had a run-in with Elias…_

_Where?_

_Are you alright?_

_What did he do?_

_At the park near the institute. I’m fine, he was just weird._

_Want to meet up? Or call me?_

_I’m heading to Tim’s rn. We can def meet up tmrrw. I want to think about what he said_

_Keep me posted. Stay safe_

_Thnx. You too_

The coin in her pocket was nearly humming now, and she thought she could feel the imprint of it on her leg. She reached into her pocket with some concern and tried to sift through all the noise. It was always harder when there were multiple people around her, and it was crowded today. She tried to tune into things that were only relevant to her or Jon, or even to finding Cass, but that wasn’t narrowing it down enough, apparently. It was agitated, though, which made her agitated. After much deliberation, she opted to leave the coin in the safe in her flat, deciding that she would only be on edge if it continued to send her vague warnings with no substance. Her evening was going to be fun and lighthearted, and she wasn’t going to let any potential futures get in the way of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting on here is new for me but it's been a great experience so far. I can't tell if I'm dragging this out too much or letting the mystery build appropriately, but I'm having fun writing it and I hope you all have fun reading! As always, kudos and comments fuel my validation-seeking side, and I appreciate everyone who's read this far :)


	17. Normal - Tim

Things almost felt normal again. Tim’s scars were tender but healed, and he no longer needed the thick bandages to be stuck all over him. With all the new tapes from Gertrude that the officer Jon was in touch with, Basira, kept dropping off, they all had their workload back to normal with researching old names and places. Jon insisted that helping him discover what his visions were about and what Gertrude might have known about everything was integral to their survival, but Tim still worried. Mostly, he was strangely proud that Jon had managed to get an officer on his side as he had done before himself, and though he teased him a bit, he doubted they had used the same methods for gathering said assistance.

Things were feeling so normal, now, that he had started looking into his brother’s death again. He knew it wasn’t going to help their current situation in the archives, but conversely, he thought that what he was learning now might help his own investigation. It was exhausting work to do alone, but he didn’t want to bring everyone else into it. This was his mission, his vengeance. Martin was too concerned about Jon’s wellbeing and possibly being watched by Elias, and Sasha was too invested in her own side projects that she had failed to mention to him as of yet. The return to normalcy and lull in anything life-threatening made Tim miss their old dynamic, a bit. He and Sasha had been closer before the archives, at one point very close, and now she was always doing something with Jon. He wasn’t jealous. Definitely not. But he did invite her over for movies, sans the others, and he was frustratingly relieved when she accepted without hesitation.

They were sat on his couch in the near-dark, having binged most of the _Terminator_ movies. He had an arm thrown around Sasha, and her head was resting on his shoulder. It was nice. It was comfortable. It was normal. Her phone buzzed a couple of times beside her and she absentmindedly pushed it under a cushion. Tim smiled, knowing she’d rather be here than absorbed in whoever that was. They watched the last hour of robotic violence with sleepy enjoyment, Sasha jumping at nearly every explosion as she periodically drifted in and out of consciousness. When the credits finally rolled, Tim wasn’t quite able to stifle a yawn.

“God, we’re getting old. We can’t even watch five movies without falling asleep.” Sasha laughed, and Tim smiled. They hadn’t really sat and watched them with rapt attention. Having movies in the background was just the atmosphere for them to chat and eat snacks while being able to say they accomplished something, though he did truly enjoy the crazy sci-fi action. He noticed his own phone’s notification light was blinking and reached to check it. To his surprise, they were all from Jon. He furrowed his brows in concern.

_Tim. I saw the prophet._

One missed call. Then:

_I’m fine now. With Martin._

Tim felt a tinge of guilt and immediately texted back.

_Sorry I wasn’t on my phone. You sure you’re alright?_

_Yes. I’ll fill you in tomorrow._

Sasha tensed beside him, and he looked down to see her on her phone as well, with many more notifications than him, also from Jon.

_Sasha, the prophet is outside my flat._

Two missed calls.

_I’m heading to the institute._

One missed call.

_I’m at Martin’s. Call when you can._

Huh. He hadn’t asked Tim to call him. Sasha was doing so, though, glancing up at Tim with worry as she shifted to sit up straight. Tim had his doubts that the man would still be awake. It was getting late, and the texts were from hours ago. Despite his doubts, Jon picked up almost immediately.

“Hey, Jon, are you alright?” She asked, and Tim watched her listen for a moment before mouthing ‘ _speaker_.’

“Okay, good. Good. Can I put you on speaker? I’m with Tim.” She laughed as she moved the phone from her face and pressed the button.

“ – _didn’t mean to interrupt_ – ” Tim heard him say, and Sasha grinned at him.

“I wouldn’t call you if we were having sex, Jon. We were watching movies. Now tell us what happened.” Tim huffed a laugh as well at Jon’s stammering apology.

“ _Right, well, I was out getting groceries, and when I came back to my flat, I saw the prophet – Cass – whatever, I saw them standing outside it, looking right up at my window.”_ He said, and Tim leaned toward the phone between them, listening intently.

“ _I didn’t want them to know I was there, as I wasn’t really equipped for such an encounter, so I decided to head back to the institute.”_ He said, and Tim thought he could hear the panic returning to his voice. _“I don’t know why they were there, this long after everything, or what they wanted, but I can only assume that they meant to kill me –_ ” He was cut off by a murmur in the background.

“Is that Martin?” Tim asked.

“ _I – what? Yes, yes, let me put you on speaker_.”

“ _Hey, guys.”_ Martin sounded tired.

“Hi, Martin,” Tim and Sasha both sung.

“So, Jon, you just saw them outside your flat and left? They didn’t say anything to you?” Sasha asked, and Tim wondered at her incredulous tone. Last time Jon had spoken to them, his eyes had bled. That likely wasn’t an event he wanted to repeat.

“ _Right. I don’t know if they’re still there, or how long they had been there while I was away, or if this is something they just do, periodically_ – ” He stammered, and Tim felt a bit of his worry creeping into him as well. He stood and went to look out the window, but there were no ominous figures watching him from the street.

“Okay, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Do you want us to come into the institute tomorrow?” Sasha asked, and Tim whirled around to glare at her.

“On a Sunday?” He whispered, and Sasha glared back at him.

“ _No, no, I’ll be fine for a day. We can meet up on Monday. Not at the institute_.” He said quickly, and Sasha nodded with concern, though he couldn’t see her.

“ _You guys can come here if you like. He’s going to stay with me for now, until we know his flat is safe_.” Martin chimed in, and Tim looked at Sasha with glee.

“Right. We can do that.” Tim said brightly, and Sasha quirked her head at him.

“Alright, well we’ll let you get some sleep, Jon. Take care, you two. We’ll be in touch.” She said, and they all said their goodbyes. As soon as she hung up, Sasha turned to look at Tim.

“What are you so excited about?” She asked, and he laughed.

“You owe me. I won our bet.” He said, and she rolled her eyes.

“Are you kidding me? He only went over cause we both ignored him, and he was scared. What else was he going to do?” Tim shook his head.

“Alright, fine, we’ll wait a little bit. But I’m very sure that things are going as I said they would.” Tim said, plopping back down heavily on the couch.

“They aren’t going to fall in love over this. Jon’s probably itching to get out of there. You know how weird he is around Martin.” Sasha said, and Tim shook his head.

“Martin is everyone’s dream man. Jon is too lucky to have his affection. He just needs to realize it.” Tim said, clutching a pillow to his chest. Sasha scoffed.

“Alright, someone has a crush.” She said, hitting him with the other pillow on the couch. He nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes. Jon and Martin.” He said, and Sasha hit him again. He enjoyed winding her up. It was nice to get their minds off the supernatural for once.

“Alright, whatever, continue having fun watching your improbable office romance. I’ll be over here trying to investigate why Cass was outside Jon’s flat.” She said, and Tim’s jubilance faded.

“This is probably bad, isn’t it?” He asked, watching her get off the couch and grab her sweater.

“Yes. And he’s a bit too nervous to find any answers himself, right now, so we have to do it for him.” She said, running towards the door to get her shoes.

“What, right now? Where are you going?” Tim asked.

“To Jon’s flat. I want to see if Cass is still there.” She said, and Tim barked a humorless laugh at the ridiculous notion. She always said their name familiarly, as if she knew them.

“Sash, slow down for a second. What are you going to do if they are there?” He asked, not moving from his seat. She stopped her preparations for a moment.

“I’ll talk to them. See what they have to say for themself.” She said plainly, and Tim started to worry.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think we should go to bed and deal with it on Monday, like Jon said.” He stated, and Sasha looked like she was beginning to get truly frustrated.

“You want to do what Jon says? That’s a first.” She said, attempting to make light of it, but Tim could tell she was serious.

“Okay, fine, if you’re so intent on going, I’ll come with you,” He said, forcing himself to stand. “But we’re just going there and back. I want to go to bed.” He said, and Sasha nodded promptly.

“Of course.” She said, and Tim marveled at the gleam in her eye. She was more than excited to do this. She wasn’t usually this invested in the cases they researched. He wondered why this one was any different. Was it because it was about Jon? He pushed the thought away and walked over to put his own shoes on, closing his eyes as he resigned himself to staying up late and searching for a psychic stalker.


	18. Needed - Martin

Martin woke slowly, yawning and stretching. It was nice, being able to wake up in his own bed. He had moved back into his flat after the Prentiss incident as the archives had certainly been less than habitable after the attack, and now that that threat was eliminated his flat felt like his own again, if one ignored the nagging sensation of being watched, and the worry that he would find small worms spilling out of the walls. But he was starting to relax at this point, and he liked living on his own, despite his occasional bouts of loneliness. It was calmer and kinder in the quiet than his life had been as a child. He didn’t need to dwell, though. And he wasn’t upset, by any means, with his new – though temporary – roommate.

He heard the shower running as he switched off the alarm clock that had yet to ring. He often awoke before his alarm. His internal clock was more prepared than he was. It was nearly 8 am on a Sunday, and the fact that Jon was already awake didn’t surprise him. He definitely seemed like a morning person, though from all the late and sleepless nights Martin himself had witnessed, he had wondered if Jon really slept at all. He didn’t have to wonder any longer though, for he had seen him passed out on his couch before Martin could even attempt to offer him his own bed instead. He gladly would have slept on the couch if it meant Jon got a good night’s sleep for once. He remembered how scared and paranoid Jon had seemed when he let him up to his flat, though. It likely took all his energy to retell the story of his sighting of this 'prophet' character. Martin had been watching TV when Jon called, frantic, about how Tim and Sasha were busy and he was so sorry but was Martin doing anything important? Martin had immediately sat up straighter and said no, he wasn’t at all, and was there anything he needed from him? Barely twenty minutes later he was letting Jon up into his flat and urging him to sit as he brought him a cup of tea. Jon had accepted his aid gratefully and declared many times that he wouldn’t mind staying in the institute as Martin himself had done, but Martin simply wouldn’t hear of it. He had tried living in the archives and it was not something he would recommend, especially since Jon was so on edge there now with the information his visions had shown him. After Sasha had called to check in, Martin had gone to get an extra pillow and blanket for himself, and when he returned, Jon was already nestled into the corner of the couch, snoring softly.

Martin looked up at the ceiling. He knew that he would have to wait until Jon was out of the shower to get ready himself, so he stayed in bed for a moment. He didn’t care for waiting around with nothing to do, though, so it truly was only a moment before he decided he would get up to make breakfast. He didn’t bother to grab real clothes before he showered, so he shuffled out of his room in his sleepshirt and boxers, rummaging through the fridge. Jon had been out grocery shopping before he had encountered Cass, and obviously there hadn’t been a place to set his items down, so he had brought them to Martin’s. He idly looked through the bag of cauliflower, chicken, spinach, and tried to decide if it would be rude to use his food to make something for the two of them. He set his mind to breakfast mode, and nothing really screamed at him. He had eggs, and eggs were perfectly fine, so he grabbed the last four and threw out the carton. By the time Jon was out of the shower, Martin had an omelet waiting for him. He had already eaten his, and Jon’s was still in the pan on the stove to keep it warm. Jon emerged from the bathroom with wet hair, wearing the same clothes head had on when he arrived, the same clothes he had stubbornly slept in. Martin assumed he hated that, as he looked as grumpy as ever. While he wouldn’t necessarily mind lending Jon a fresh shirt, he was a couple sizes larger than the shorter man and he knew Jon would end up looking like a sickly child in his clothes.

Jon at least had the gallantry to grace martin with a smile when he saw him. Martin had no trouble returning the gesture.

“I made you an omelet,” Martin said, nodding toward the stove. Jon’s face made a rather complicated set of expressions before he turned back to Martin and smiled again.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” He said, standing in the same spot and seeming a bit confused. Martin stood from the table and shook his head.

“I wanted to. There’s a plate on the counter for you.” He said as he passed him to head to the bathroom. Jon smelled like his shampoo, and Martin blinked a couple times as he realized he quite liked that fact. He pushed a hand into his face after closing the bathroom door behind him and made himself count to ten. He wasn’t going to admit he had a crush, on his boss, who was now staying in his flat with him. That was much too complicated. There was no reason to like him anyway. He was rude and bossy, and he was obviously less than impressed with Martin’s presence in the archives. Tim had known him the longest out of the four of them down there, and the nicest thing he had to say about him was that he was an “interesting fellow.” Of course, that didn’t stop Martin from noticing how nicely his clothes fit him, or stop him from wondering if he was getting enough sleep, or eating enough… And all of that had been before he had brought the prophet down there. Things had really changed after that, most noticeably after Prentiss. Jon was actually quite a bit more pleasant to be around since then. Tim had initially been on Martin’s side of the ‘Jon is unfair’ debate, but since they started going out to lunch as a group and interacting almost as friends, Tim had changed his tune, and Martin was starting to see what he was talking about. Jon could be quite funny when he wanted to be, in a biting sort of way. It was particularly fun to set him loose on a topic he hated, as his scathing remarks, when directed at something other than Martin himself, were extremely fun to hear.

Martin caught a glimpse of himself smiling in the foggy mirror and quickly stopped himself. He didn’t need to do this right now. He turned the shower on colder than he really wanted and braced himself for the shock.

Jon was on the phone when Martin came out of his room, dressed and ready for the day. He was sitting on the couch, the sleeves of his wrinkled green sweater bunched up to his elbows.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t believe you – No. Alright, yes. Mmhmm. Exactly.”

Martin tried not to listen too closely to the voice on the other end, as he didn’t want to eavesdrop, but it was very obviously Sasha.

“I’ll likely go over today to at least get some clothes.” He said, and Martin pointedly didn’t look at Jon as he meandered around the space for a moment. He needed something to do that didn’t involve sitting next to him on the couch, so he grabbed the book he had been reading from the small shelf and sat at the table with it. It was unquestionably less comfortable than the couch, but it gave Jon the illusion of privacy for his call.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” Jon said wryly, and Martin did wish he could hear the other end. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He said, and he hung up, looking up from his cell to see Martin watching him. Martin knew he blushed easily and hoped his cheeks weren’t already red.

“Who was it?” He asked politely as if he hadn’t heard. Jon didn’t question it, though.

“Sasha.” He confirmed. “She and Tim went to my flat last night after they called. They wanted to see if the prophet was still there.” He said, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the very idea gave him a headache.

“Were they?” Martin asked. Jon shook his head.

“Thankfully, no. She said she would be willing to stake the place out and see if they returned, and while the offer is tempting, I told her it wouldn’t be necessary.” He said, dropping his hand from his face. Martin nodded.

“I am going to head over there, as you likely heard.” He said, and Martin continued to nod. Jon looked at the door for a moment in contemplation and then at his hands before looking up at Martin.

“Would you… mind accompanying me?” He asked a little shyly, and Martin melted a little.

“Of course not. I wasn’t planning on doing anything else today.” He said. He knew Jon was on edge about this whole thing, and while he knew better than to expect him to stay with him for more than one additional night before he got over it, it did feel good to be needed for now.

As they journeyed to Jon’s flat, they talked exclusively about work. It was a comfortable enough topic for the both of them, and there was much to discuss, as ‘work’ was generally anything about the supernatural, including Jon’s visons. Jon was now certain at this point that the end of the world as they knew it was all thanks to Elias. He wanted nothing more than to find a way to get rid of him, which Martin found both concerning and a tad exciting.

“You, what, want to kill him?” He asked quietly, not wanting to startle passerby as they walked. Jon edged slightly closer to him as he noticed his volume change, their arms brushing lightly.

“No, that wouldn’t do us any good. We need something clever and symbolic. He needs to be removed from his seat of power,” He explained with the same frantic gleam in his eye that he got when he talked about railroad systems or emulsifiers.

“Like, what, firing him?” Martin asked, and Jon actually stopped walking, causing Martin to stumble to avoid getting too far ahead of him.

“Possibly…” He said, with an excited look on his face, but it soon faded.

“But he runs the institute. No one has that authority.” He concluded, and resumed his quick pace, forcing Martin to hurry to catch up to him.

“What would hurt him that wouldn’t hurt us?” Jon questioned, and Martin had no idea. If he couldn’t be killed, and he hadn’t shown any signs of evilness, Martin wasn’t sure that anything could be done. Jon had many more answers than he did at the moment. Even after listening to the tapes Gertrude had left and paying very close attention to whatever Jon told him about his visions, there were a lot of holes in Martin’s understanding. His best bet was just to listen to Jon ramble to himself until he was inspired enough to offer his own advice.

There were no hooded figures waiting for them when they got to Jon’s building, and Jon invited Martin up with him to ‘keep watch’ as he packed a bag, or rather, grabbed an already packed bag, as he had in fact been semi-prepared for a situation like this. As Jon opened the door, though, he reached down to pick up a piece of paper that had been wedged underneath. Martin was shocked he had noticed it so quickly, but Jon was very obviously on high alert. He clutched the thin paper as he peeked around inside his flat. The door had been locked, so Martin was fairly certain no one was inside, but it couldn’t hurt to be cautious. He let Martin in after surveying the small front room, and Martin stood awkwardly by the door as Jon ducked into his bedroom to grab a large duffel bag. Once he returned, he approached Martin grimly and opened the folded piece of paper. He looked at it for a moment and Martin was alarmed at how wide his eyes became before he dropped it.

“Let’s go. Now.” He said, and he was standing at the door looking out into the hall before Martin had the chance to pick the discarded letter up. It was short and written in elegant calligraphy, but its appearance made the message no less worrisome.

_Destroy all eyes. He can watch you._


	19. Debt - Sasha

Sasha was exhausted. It had been a long day. A long couple of days, actually. The four of them had met at Martin’s as planned, and Jon had many things to say to them. He had realized that Elias was not merely their boss, nor just any servant of the eye, but the founder of the institute himself. Sasha wished she hadn’t been surprised by this development, but she had been. Jon was also convinced that the prophet would return to haunt him soon - though he could not see a single glimpse of them in his visions - and that they were out to get all their eyes. He obviously hadn’t slept the night before, and Martin had looked nearly as tired as he did. He was borderline crazed with paranoia and warnings, and eventually their meeting altered from him informing them of events that may come to pass to them all taking him out for dinner to see the real world and relax a little. Sasha wasn’t so sure that it had worked, as Jon had been intent on having her on the line as she returned to her flat, to make sure she didn’t encounter anything unexpected on her way there. He apologized numerous times during this call for no longer being able to see her in his visions, as her life would have already been over by now. She didn’t like that, nor did she one hundred percent believe it, but she knew better than to try to argue with him. She tried to tell him she would be fine now that she was home as she opened her door, and that all she wanted at the moment was some sleep. He thankfully conceded that that was a good idea, and annoyingly reminded her to lock her door. She rolled her eyes as she entered her flat, and was hit by a wave of immense sadness and fear.

Sasha stopped dead in her tracks, looking at the figure sitting in her living room. The cloud of dread was lazy and thin, but it was _them_. She fumbled as she hung up on Jon and pocketed her phone. She barely had the presence of mind to close the door behind her, she was so excited. She shouldn’t be excited. She knew that, logically. She should feel afraid; and she was, to a certain extent, but then her curiosity whispered that answers were _right there_ , and she felt her stomach do a flip. Cass was wearing a long black shirt and gray sweatpants. Sasha wasn’t expecting such a casual look, but somehow their regal presence made it seem perfectly fitting. They could wear whatever they wanted, as long as they answered her questions.

They met her gaze coolly, waiting for her to speak. Sasha hung her purse on the hook by the door as if she were coming home normally. She took off her jacket and removed her shoes, letting the ritual calm her mind and nerves. Cass didn’t speak as she did this, merely watching from the chair they were sunk into, half in shadow. Sasha stepped into the living room and sat across from them on her couch, not bothering to turn on the light. The silence was deafening, and Sasha was tempted to put on some music or open a window, but she refused to prolong her suffering any further.

“How did you get in?” She finally asked, a million other questions fighting to be spoken next.

“The door. You left it unlocked.” They said, and Sasha’s face twitched as she tried to remember if that was true or not. The lock certainly wasn’t broken, nor the windows by the look of things, so they must be telling the truth. That was good. That was what she wanted.

“Why are you here?” She asked next. Cass was a very still individual, and the absence of any idle movements made gestures like tilting their head seem deliberate and meaningful.

“You want to talk to me.” They said, and Sasha took a breath. It was again true, but how did they know that?

“Do you already know why?” She asked, and Cass smiled lightly.

“I know a great many things, but most of my knowledge lies in possibilities. I could guess what you wanted, and eventually, I would be right, but I think it would be easier if you asked and I answered.” They replied. This was as many words as Sasha had ever heard them speak. Their voice was smooth and low, and Sasha wanted nothing more than to hear it again. She blinked at the thought. Were they hypnotizing her? She sat up as straight as she could and focused on her goal.

“Alright. Why did you come to the institute, what did you do to Jon, and can you do the same thing to me?” She asked in a rush. She regretted the words almost as soon as she spoke them. She _really_ didn’t want her eyes to bleed. The same gorgeous smile she had seen before at the institute graced their lips, and Sasha blinked again, her stomach tightening.

“I told you before that I am a messenger. I gave Jon the knowledge he needed. I could grant you the equivalent and more, though it wouldn’t be pleasant.” They said, and Sasha furrowed her brows. “Or maybe it would be, for you. You crave knowledge more than anything, don’t you?” They asked, and Sasha swallowed back her growing apprehension.

“Is it really the future that he sees? That you see?” Sasha asked, quieter than before. Cass looked at her for a moment before responding.

“It is a future, yes.” Sasha narrowed her eyes.

“What does that mean?” She demanded. Cass laughed a genuine sound that caught Sasha off-guard.

“What does it sound like? There is more than one path ahead of you. More than one possible outcome. Consider how many choices you make in a day, how many diverging paths could be created from them.” Sasha released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“So, you can see… multiple futures? You can see everything that will happen?”

“Not everything. I can only look in one direction at a time. Maybe two, peripherally.” They said, and Sasha nodded, though she refused to accept this concept yet.

“Can you prove it?” She asked, kicking herself after she said it. Cass didn’t seem upset by the question, but she did see a deep look of exhaustion in their expression.

“Not in a way that you could assess. Knowing one’s future is often enough to change it.” She said. “For example, the path you’re on right now is vastly different than the one you were on before I entered the institute.” Sasha nodded. Though she had to hold herself back from rambling, this was greatly satisfying.

“So, the future that Jon is seeing is what would have happened if you hadn’t come?” She asked slowly, seeing if she was understanding correctly. Cass nodded once.

“Doesn’t that make it useless, now?” She asked, and again mentally kicked herself for her bluntness. Cass didn’t seem to appreciate this. They sat back in the chair, lips pulling into a firm line. Sasha should have known that she could only have so many slip-ups before her questioning got her into trouble.

“Useless?” They repeated, and Sasha shifted in her seat.

“I just meant that if it’s no longer our future, then why does Jon still keep seeing things? He’s very sure it’s all going to happen, but if it’s irrelevant now then he’s suffering for nothing…” She trailed off as Cass’s expression remained unimpressed.

“Knowing that future saved your life in this reality,” Cass stated, and Sasha felt a pressure on her chest under their heavy gaze. It was true, then, what Jon had said. She would have been dead by now. That was… disturbing.

“Then, I guess I owe you.” She said carefully. Cass’s expression changed at this, showing a twinge of surprise. Sasha felt a burst of confidence at seeing their cool demeanor break.

“You saved my life through your actions. What were you hoping to get out of doing this?” She asked, but Cass remained silent. “You must have had a reason, a reward. If you’re a messenger, as you say, then whose message are you delivering?” Cass regained their calm at this, apparently back on a foreseeable path.

“You are familiar with the pantheon of fears?” They asked, and Sasha felt a small amount of disappointment. Of course, anything interesting that happened was due to them. She couldn’t escape them if she tried.

“Yes.” She sighed.

“How many are you aware of?” They asked, and this made Sasha’s chest tight.

“Fourteen.” She said, and Cass smiled again, their eyes still tired and emotionless.

“There are more than fourteen,” They said, and Sasha leaned her head back on top of the cushion behind her. That made sense. There was to be no peace for her, ever again, it seemed.

“I, for most of my existence, was tied to the End. It is one of the oldest and strongest fears,” They continued, and Sasha picked her head back up.

“But over time, as humanity evolved, I evolved as well, and I felt a stirring long before any others did. I have seen unfathomable loss in my time on this earth,” They continued, and Sasha wondered at how old they really were. They appeared young, at least about Sasha’s age, maybe thirty, absolutely no older than forty. Her musing would have to wait though, as Cass was still explaining.

“It is a newer fear compared to the others, or at least new to us. I believe it was rediscovered, not simply born so recently. Many call it the Extinction, though some, like myself, refer to it as The Future Without Us.” This was not good.

“So, your fear-god told you to come to the institute?” She asked, wanting to get to the point. Cass didn’t like to be interrupted, it seemed, but allowed it.

“No. I have tried many times to forsake it, but for whatever reason, I am very tightly in its clutches.” They said, and Sasha tried to spy any inkling of human emotion on their face, but the shadows were dark, and her eyes were tired. “I am working against my god, much as you are with yours.” They said, and Sasha made a noise of protest.

“I don’t follow the fears.” She argued.

“You do. You are rather firmly aligned with the Eye, though I think you knew that already.” They said, and Sasha felt annoyance and a large amount of dread that couldn’t solely be contributed to Cass.

“I don’t want to be.” She said, sounding distinctly whinier than she wanted to.

“Nor do I, but sometimes we are chosen,” They said, and they looked at Sasha appraisingly. “And sometimes we choose them.” They added.

“I am tired of watching and waiting, though. My efforts over the years to avoid certain tragedies were met only with worse ones. In the end I made little difference on my own. I’ve found that I have much greater luck saving individuals from dark fates than preventing likely events from occurring.” They said, and Sasha did see their sadness now, their hurt. She felt it. It made the air thick and cloying, filling her lungs with sharp pangs of sorrow.

“But I am nothing if not adaptable. I have a new plan now, one that requires others’ aid.” They said, and Sasha watched in fascination as Cass’s expression boarded on manic.

“If I can save the individual who would end the world, target those involved, bring them out from under the fears’ control, then perhaps I can direct us towards a better path.” They said, and Sasha took in a deep breath of real air as the heavy dread seemed to be sucked out of her all at once.

“You’re trying to save us?” She asked, and Cass nodded.

“It is likely impossible.” They said, and Sasha shook her head softly.

“This is incredible.” She murmured, trying to process it all.

“I do not mean to give you false hope.” They said, but Sasha was already leagues ahead of them. The benefit of having a literal prophet of the end times on their side was likely to be astronomical. The difficulty now was going to be convincing Jon to trust them. They were the best person to guide them, as they had the most experience deciphering visions. Maybe Jon wouldn’t have to worry so much anymore.

“You have to talk to Jon.” She said, but Cass sat back in the chair.

“No.” They said simply, and Sasha frowned.

“Why not?” She asked, and Cass folded their hands in their lap.

“I have already interfered enough with him. If I do too much too soon, I could endanger him and risk ruining my efforts. It would be a shame to have to start all over without the element of surprise.” They said wistfully.

“What are you talking about? Why is he in danger? Why is this all about _him_?” She asked, frustrated that she seemed to be losing the point of the conversation again.

“Hasn’t he told you?” They asked, and Sasha felt truly nervous. Was he holding something back from her?

“He’s the instrument of the end of the world.” They said. Apparently, he had been hiding something from her, then. She couldn’t exactly be angry with him. She was hiding plenty herself, but it made her slightly uneasy to know he had kept it to himself.

“He does not intend to be, of course. Jonah is the true problem we need to solve.” They continued, looking thoughtful. Sasha was glad that Elias was evil, she decided. It was very easy to dislike him, and now she had a valid reason to.

“All these stupid men.” She muttered, mostly to herself, mostly in jest.

“Are you feeling left out?” Cass asked in an uncharacteristically cruel tone, breaking Sasha out of her thoughts. “There are many paths in which you had Jon’s role. You still have the potential to take his mantle if he dies this time, as well.” They said, and Sasha looked at them with concern.

“What do you mean?”

“You and he are extremely similar. You are nearly as much of an archivist as he is, aside from the actual abilities and responsibilities it entails.” They elaborated, and Sasha mulled this over in her mind.

“Archivist is just a job position…” She started, but Cass raised a silencing eyebrow.

“You know that’s not true.” They said, and Sasha did. They sat in silence for a minute, and then two, and then three. Sasha still had so many questions, but Cass didn’t seem intent on leaving anytime soon. They sat with their eyes closed, and if they weren’t sitting so rigidly, Sasha might have assumed they had fallen asleep.

“Why did you come and explain this all to me?” She finally asked. Cass did not open their eyes and took a deep breath before answering.

“You were being too obvious.” They finally said, and Sasha prickled.

“You’re the one who gave me that address,” Sasha realized, and Cass hummed their assent.

“And you are the one who did not heed my instructions. No death-like shroud has fallen over our archivist, and yet you came to the intended meeting spot. I foresaw your arrival too late, and Jonah acted before I could intercept.” They explained. “You caught his attention with your searching. He can’t see into Jon’s mind any longer, I made sure of that, and he can’t see into mine, but I was concerned that the more you discovered, the more he would figure out my plan.” They said, and Sasha swallowed.

“So, why explain this all to me?” She asked again, “If he can… see me… know things about me… then isn’t this as dangerous as coming to the institute and explaining it to him yourself?” She asked. Cass finally reopened their eyes and shook their head.

“No. I shroud those around me in my mystery. Even Jonah, with all his knowledge of the past and present, cannot fathom a million concurrent possibilities.” They said with a smirk. “This merely means you will have to keep my gift with you at all times from now on. No more leaving it in your flat unguarded.” They said, and Sasha raised her eyebrows.

“The coin?” She asked, and Cass nodded.

“If you focus on it, Elias cannot know your mind. It carries enough of my energy to confuse him, and Jon, once he achieves a similar state.” They said, and Sasha licked her lips as she mulled this over.

“It does not protect you in any physical way, though. You must still tread carefully and be wary of who you reveal this to. Jon should likely be your only confidante in these matters, apart from myself, of course.” They said, and Sasha looked at them in confusion.

“You are sticking around, then?” She asked, and they nodded.

“You said yourself that you are indebted to me for saving your life. I will stay here until I am confident that the apocalypse has been prevented, or at least significantly forestalled.” They said, and Sasha laughed at their imperiousness.

“In my flat?” She asked incredulously. Cass nodded solemnly. Sasha sucked in a deep breath. This honestly wasn’t the absolute worst outcome, and she had gotten a lot of the answers she had been craving. And if Cass was this quiet, they likely wouldn’t be difficult to live with. After only a moment, Sasha shrugged.

“Yeah, alright. I don’t have a second bed, so I guess you’re lucky I have a pull-out couch.” She said. Cass waved the comment away.

“I don’t sleep.” They said plainly, and Sasha looked at them warily.

“Right.” She said, and they continued to sit in the chair with their eyes closed. Sasha watched them sit for a bit, but quickly got bored. She couldn’t think of anything else to say now that the reality of what she had discovered was settling in. She got up to head to her bedroom, keeping an eye on Cass’s still form. They had said they didn’t sleep, but Sasha didn’t know what else to call whatever they were doing. Meditating? She mused that she had roomed with people with weirder habits. Finally tearing her gaze from them, Sasha pushed the door to her room open and only fleetingly wished she could lock it. This was bound to be an interesting dynamic.


	20. Wine - Jon

“She hung up on me,” Jon said aloud, slightly affronted. He looked accusingly at his phone for a moment as if it were the reason Sasha hadn’t bothered to say goodbye. Martin didn’t immediately respond to his statement, and Jon looked up to see him engrossed in his book. Martin always noticed when Jon looked at him, though, and he quickly darted his eyes towards him.

“Sorry?” He said as a question.

“It’s just a bit rude. I only wanted to make sure she got home all right.” He grumbled. Jon knew he shouldn’t be upset, but he was feeling overwhelmed, and everything was upsetting him now. He had thought he had this whole vision thing under control, but since they had found the letter in his flat, he had been remembering more and more. _The coffin, and someone inside who he had to save._ _A woman he didn’t recognize burning his hand. A glimpse of Martin walking away from him._ They always came to him in dreams, and he was now quite conflicted about sleeping. It was never quite as restful as it should be, and he always awoke knowing something terrible. Martin frowned at him, lowering his book into his lap.

“She’s fine, Jon. They’re both fine.” He said, and Jon huffed a breath. It had only been an hour since Tim and Sasha had left, and he was already wishing they were back.

“Right.” He looked away from Martin in favor of his left leg, which was bouncing idly. He missed feeling sure that nothing bad could happen. He no longer had that luxury. Though, on second thought, he had always been rather anxious; now he just had a real reason to be. The scars on his arms scars itched, and he began to gently rub at them. It he scratched it would just hurt for longer. Martin nudged his other knee with his own, bringing their proximity to light. Jon looked up at his face quickly. Martin wasn’t really a touchy person to his knowledge, not that the brief contact really counted as touching, but…

“Are you okay?” Martin asked, not condescendingly, thank god, but with an openness that Jon appreciated. His tilted eyebrows revealed that he did not think Jon was okay. It was always a bit alarming how well Martin could see exactly what he was feeling. Maybe he didn’t hide it as well as he tried.

“I’m peachy.” He said with an impatient sigh. “Just… worried. As usual.” Jon willed his leg to stop bouncing, but it wasn’t going to happen. It was his only outlet at the moment for his concern for Tim, Sasha, Martin, and his frustration over what to do about Elias, Cass, and _himself_ , as he still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go about dooming them all, so he couldn’t likely prevent it.

“You know you aren’t responsible for them,” Martin said, and Jon gave him a quizzical look.

“What?” Martin turned slightly towards him, his book forgotten.

“You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself.” Jon scoffed at that.

“Well, I am the only person who can see all the ways we could come to harm and ultimately die, so I feel like understanding and expressing that is rather important.”

“I’m not saying that it’s not, I’m just saying it’s not actually your sole responsibility.” Martin pressed. “Cass can theoretically see this all as well, and they haven’t been helping. Besides, no one’s died yet, so I think you’re doing a good job.” Jon wasn’t sure what Martin’s point was, but he felt a tad annoyed. Was he… complimenting him? Comparing him to the Prophet? Advising him to congratulate himself?

“So, what, I should just relax?” He said, punctuating the ridiculous notion with a small laugh.

“I’m not suggesting you ignore obvious signs of danger, but just like, maybe, you can focus on yourself for a little while? Make sure you’re handling everything alright?”

“I’m fine.” He lied. _Handling everything alright?_ He could see the end result clearer every day as it got inevitably closer, but the _how_ was still eluding him for the most part. How was he supposed to handle that? He wished that Sasha – that any of them – could see what he saw just for a moment to help him sort it out because he knew he was terrible at explaining it. Basira had been asking him a lot of questions recently, and though he thought her counsel may be useful, he knew she played a part in the future he saw and he wasn’t sure it was safe to involve her any more than he already had. He was probably actively leading everyone to even worse deaths by alerting them to his dreams.

“You want to talk about it?” Martin asked, and Jon was startled out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Not really.” He sighed. “Sorry to worry you. You can go back to your book.”

“No,” Martin said, and Jon felt guilty. This was going to become a thing now. He wasn’t likely to stop until Jon opened up. He remembered a similar situation with Georgie, actually…

“Do you drink?” Martin asked, and Jon peeked back up from his now rapidly bouncing leg to see a curious look on Martin’s face. He blinked.

“Occasionally.” He didn’t really, but there wasn’t any harm in it. He just didn’t drink alone, and he hadn’t gone out for drinks with anyone in… well, in a long time. His shoulders tightened as he wondered if Martin was about to ask him to go to a bar. The others had tried many times to get him to go out with them, and while lunches and meet-ups in the day were fine and good, he had yet to go out with them for anything less formal. He internally scoffed at the idea of formality now, sitting on the couch in his pajamas with Martin. While he appreciated the attempt to get his mind off everything, he really didn’t want to leave Martin’s flat at the moment. He was already in his sleep clothes, not to mention his distaste for crowds, and noise, and people… but if Martin was asking…

“Is boxed wine okay?”

“Absolutely.” As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Martin was up and away. Jon was rather surprised with himself. Maybe he did need to just ignore the not-memories of the future for now. He watched Martin return from the fridge with two mugs and was immediately relieved that they wouldn’t be going anywhere. He slumped back into the couch cushion, the tension in his shoulders becoming more bearable. Martin looked slightly embarrassed as he approached with them, but Jon wasn’t quite sure why.

“I don’t have any wine glasses.” He said, glancing at Jon apologetically. Jon just shrugged. Cups were cups. If they held liquid, they were good.

“I don’t mind at all.” Martin smiled in relief and sat back down next to him on the couch.

“I think we both ought to have a drink,” He explained as he handed Jon his mug.

“It’s a Monday,” Jon stated, not quite meaning it as a protest. Martin continued as if he hadn’t heard him.

“I also think, since you’re staying with me for now, we should get to know each other.” Jon furrowed his brow.

“Do we not already know each other?” He asked, and Martin huffed.

“Well, I certainly know you’re a smartass.” He said with a small smile, and Jon was startled by his choice of words. Martin usually seemed less comfortable with him. He had heard him joke around lightly in the office with Tim and Sasha, but never around Jon. It must have been the fact that they were in his flat, his domain. Jon couldn’t help himself from laughing a bit in surprise, which earned him a wide smile. He took a sip from his mug. Wine was wine. He was neither picky nor knowledgeable when it came to alcohol. Anything that didn’t hurt his throat or make him sick to his stomach was fine, and this did neither. With both of his boxes checked, Jon decided to engage.

“I didn’t know you could be so impertinent.” He replied, and Martin nodded sagely.

“That’s why it’s important we do this. There’s plenty you don’t know about me.” Jon lifted his eyebrows appraisingly. Martin smirked into his mug, and Jon’s smile had yet to fade. He wanted Martin to tell him everything, he realized suddenly.

“What’s on your mind, then?” He asked, hoping Martin had something to talk about. Jon hated small talk, and structured chats, and really trying to engage in conversation at all. He was more comfortable in small groups where he could watch others converse and pitch in when it felt right. One-on-one conversations were intense and could easily become awkward, which was one reason why he hated dates. He quickly dismissed the thought. This was just he and Martin, not a date. Martin hummed in thought, and Jon stopped himself from worrying for a moment by taking another sip of wine. His mug was tan and swirled with speckled glaze. It reminded him of the freckles that decorated Martin’s face. He quickly looked away from the mug.

“Well, I barely know anything about you. I know you hate the institute now, for good reason, mind you, but that’s the only context I know you in. I want to know what you do when you’re not at work.” Martin said, and Jon noticed that his cheeks were slightly pink. Jon had to think for a moment. What did he do outside of work? The supernatural had really become his life recently. Well, not recently, if he were being honest. He hadn’t been doing a lot other than reading and researching statements since before he started working at the institute years ago. He was the human embodiment of a one-track-mind. Martin glanced at him expectantly, and Jon decided he had to come up with something quick. What was interesting about him?

“Outside of work. This is a foreign concept.” He started, attempting humor. Martin rolled his eyes. Humor had failed him. “Alright, well, this will probably only solidify your opinion of me, but I do enjoy watching documentaries, reading about whatever catches my interest at the moment, collecting – ah.” He stopped, and Martin perked up.

“What do you collect?” He asked, and Jon cursed himself. He wanted to blame the wine, but two sips were hardly impactful enough to be the culprit.

“It’s an old habit, really. I used to collect rocks as a child. I thought they were interesting, and I thought it would be nice to have every kind of mineral…” He started, wondering how much he would be able to say before Martin laughed at him. To his surprise, Martin was merely listening politely, no malice on his face. “I don’t really keep up with the actual collecting as much anymore, but if I go on trips, I like to try to find one that is unique to that area.” He finished, and Martin seemed satisfied with his answer. Pleased, Jon rewarded himself with another sip from his mug.

“Not that it was a collection, but I had a pet rock when I was younger,” Martin admitted. “I drew some eyes on it, named it Fredrick. It was sort of shaped like a frog.” He said, and Jon rested his head against the side of the couch. They both liked rocks. What a place to start. 

“You didn’t have any other pets?” Jon asked, mildly surprised.

“No, my mum didn’t want to bother. It would have been a lot for her.” He said, and Jon could see a shadow pass over his face. Maybe family wasn’t a good topic for the night.

“Well, something tells me you quite like dogs.” He said innocently, and Martin looked back up at him with a rueful smile.

“I bet you didn’t think we’d end up being friends when we met,” Martin said, and Jon had to concede that he was correct. _He said they were friends._

“Well, it just goes to show that first impressions aren’t everything.” He said, remembering the stress of his first day as archivist with a shiver. If it weren’t for the alcohol warming him up, he would likely have dwelled longer on the hectic memory.

They idly chatted for a while longer and Martin finished his mug before Jon, though they both seemed to be equally affected.

“Refill?” He asked, and Jon eyed his quarter-full mug. Martin reached for it, and he handed it over without resistance.

“I’ll just top you off.” He said as he sped back over to the fridge. Jon’s cheeks hurt from all the idle smiling he had been doing, and he gently massaged them while his hands were free of the mug. His mouth was dry from the wine, but overall, he was feeling very pleasant, and his leg had finally stopped bouncing. Martin returned with a mischievous smile, and Jon was slightly concerned that something stronger would be in his mug, but it was just very full of the same wine. Extremely full, he noted, as he very gently retrieved it from Martin and sipped from the top to make sure it wouldn’t spill.

“Alright, where were we?” Martin asked as he leaned back into his corner of the couch. His knees bumped Jon’s again and stayed there, but he didn’t make any move to rectify it. Jon pursed his lips in contemplation.

“Ah, right, I think you were telling me all about your crush on Tim.” He said, and Martin laughed, eyes wide.

“Oh, no, that is _not_ what I said. I just said he was fun, and a good friend –”

“… and funny, and attractive.” Jon interrupted, and Martin lolled his head back.

“Ugh, stop. You sound just like him.” He said, and Jon laughed.

“Does he tease you about liking him?” Jon asked, and Martin shook his head. His face was extremely red now. It was rather endearing.

“No, not about him.” He said, and Jon raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, so there _is_ someone.” He cooed. He was feeling a tad silly. The wine was definitely getting to him. It was a pleasant fuzziness that was doing a fairly good job of keeping his mind off of… well, everything other than Martin and his laugh.

“I – no, I mean. It’s nothing. No one.” Martin sputtered, and Jon debated flustering him further. He hummed to himself lightly as Martin changed the topic. He was nearly at the bottom of his mug by the time Martin dissolved into giggles.

“We’re acting like kids at a sleepover,” Martin said, and Jon tilted his head.

“I never went to a sleepover until uni.” Jon mused.

“Really?” Martin asked.

“I didn’t really have a lot of friends when I was young.” He said, and Martin’s jubilance faded.

“Me either, actually. This is just what I assume all the kids were doing.” He said, and Jon smirked.

“Well, good to know it only took us well into our twenties to catch up on the shenanigans.” He said, and Martin gasped.

“You admitted it! You’re not in your thirties!” He said, gleefully triumphant. Jon glared down at the mug in his hands in betrayal.

“I mean. Nearly. And Sasha figured that one out long before now.” He muttered. Martin still looked rather pleased, though.

“I know, but I got you to say it. I knew you weren’t ten years older than me.”

“Most people don’t.” He mumbled, taking a long drink from his mug.

“You don’t look _old_. I mean, I’d describe you as mature. Distinguished.” Martin offered, and Jon waved his comments away.

“No need to try to coddle me. I’ve had noticeable greys since I was twenty.” Martin had his head in his hand, his elbow resting on his leg.

“I think it looks good on you.” He said, and Jon felt his face getting warm. He was glad he didn’t visibly blush as badly as Martin.

“Yes, well. You have peculiar taste.” He muttered, and he went to take another sip. He was sleepy in a warm and groggy kind of way, and his head nodded forward.

“Are you tired?” Martin asked, and Jon immediately straightened up.

“No. But I am drunk.” He announced, and Martin laughed.

“Not tired, though?” He asked again, and Jon shook his head.

“No, the night is young.”

“Do you want to watch something? TV?” Martin suggested, and Jon tried to contemplate for a moment, though there wasn’t really anything to consider. This wasn’t something that required a measured response.

“Yes.” He said finally, and Martin moved to grab the remote. He was very patient. And kind. Jon wondered if it would be odd for him to say so aloud. The show he put on was not nearly as interesting as Martin was, and Jon found himself alternating between looking at him and looking at whatever was happening on the screen, slowly fading into sleep. He wasn’t even concerned with what his dreams would bring that night.

Jon awoke in an unfamiliar room. The walls were a pale blue, and there was a single window to his right. He sat up and stretched, and his head felt thick and heavy. He glanced beside the bed and found a cup of water on the nightstand. Martin must’ve put that there for him. _Right_. He was at Martin’s, and they had been drinking the night before. A jolt went through him when he realized he was in his bed, without his trousers, but a glance beside him revealed undisturbed sheets on the other side. He had likely dropped him off here alone, then. Jon relaxed a bit, grabbing the cup of water as he tried to remember what had happened. Something was right on the edges of his mind. _Sitting in a comfortable room not much larger than this one, smiling and laughing and holding each other, a conscious effort to ignore all the sadness they had endured_. Jon blinked. They had been in front of a fireplace, but Martin didn’t have a fireplace. _The scenery outside… hills… farmland_. It was familiar, but not the same as he had seen before. _That was where he was when the world ended_. It was bits of his dreams, then, the vision back to haunt him already. He focused on it, but it wasn’t painful like they usually were. It was calm and comfortable like last night had been. Like it always was with Martin.

 _Wait_. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. It was _Martin_. The only person he was sure survived at the end with him, the one who held him and grounded him and kept him sane. His grip on the cup became a bit tighter. Oh, good lord. He had feelings for him, right now. He had a _crush_. And he knew, in some version of the future, that Martin reciprocated that crush. Jon ran a hand through his hair. What a thing to know. It was rather exciting, actually, but then, as always with his visons, the reality of it set in. That was the one good thing he had seen so far. He couldn’t let that place become what he knew it would, twisted and dark and _watched_. If he wanted to avoid the doomed end he foresaw, he would have to avoid everything that related to it, including, apparently, involving himself with Martin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a bit longer, I've been quite busy recently. I still fully intend to finish this piece, though I still have no idea how long it's going to end up being...! I probably won't be able to update daily like I had been doing, but I will still be writing whenever I can!


	21. Reminisce - Martin

Martin was trying very hard to focus on his work, but the archives did not have a great environment that day, if they could ever be said to. Tim was out interviewing someone, Sasha was in the library, and Jon was, unsurprisingly, in his office ignoring him. Melanie was sitting at the previously empty desk next to Martin’s, glowering at a file, and he remembered the scene that had ensued when Jon had seen her three days prior. She had come in to request admission to the library, as Martin had overheard. He had been making tea in the break room when he saw Sasha escorting the shorter woman to Jon’s office. They were chatting companionably, and Martin had to strain to hear what her name was. He didn’t watch her YouTube channel, but he did recognize her from the last time she had come to the institute, before Prentiss. Her iconic electric-blue bob was faded with light brown roots showing at the top. Sasha had returned to her desk to chat with Tim, and Martin heard the door to Jon’s office close. As Martin got done with the tea, he contemplated making another mug for her, but finally decided she didn’t seem like much of a tea person. He was hesitant to interrupt her discussion with Jon, as they seemed to be just shy of yelling, but he did end up knocking, causing their voices to both quiet.

“Come in.” Jon had called, and Martin did so, greeting Melanie politely and setting Jon’s tea on the coaster on his desk.

“There you are.” He had said quietly, awkwardly, trying to fill the silence his entrance had created. Melanie was eyeing him with suspicion, though not as much as she was Jon.

“Does he know about all this?” She asked suddenly, and Martin frowned, realizing he had been put in the middle of something.

“Know what?” He squeaked, and Jon ignored him, nodding at Melanie.

“Yes, all my assistants know.” He said. Melanie looked up at Martin then. She was at least a foot shorter than him, but he was somehow still quite sure that she was a threat. Her eyes were very intense, a sharp blue that was piercing and nearly as bright as her hair had once been.

“Do you believe that Jon has visions of an apocalyptic future?” She asked, arms crossed, looking for all the world like she was sure of what his response would be. Martin glanced over at Jon, who put his hands up in an ‘it’s not my fault’ gesture.

“Uh… yes, actually. I do.” He said, and Jon immediately shouted “Hah!” which only made Melanie groan.

“Fine, whatever. You all just love messing with me. I wasn’t even planning on going to India, anyway. I just want access to the library.” She explained, and from her pained tone, Martin assumed this was not the first time she had said it. Jon nodded emphatically.

“I know, I know you want to, and I know about the train yard, and I know _so many things_. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He said, and Melanie looked ready to riot.

“You don’t know anything about me! Why do you care so much?” She asked, and Martin edged closer to the door, ready to leave.

“Because I _will_ know you. I know you encounter so many things that you shouldn’t have to. I’m trying to make sure you don’t have to go through it again – er, ever!” He clarified, and Martin had to admit that hearing it from Melanie’s perspective did make Jon sound rather… unhinged.

Apparently, though, Jon did get Melanie the permission she needed to access what she wanted, and whatever she had learned had made her come back to talk to Jon the next day in a much more civil manner, he assumed. Martin hadn’t been there for that conversation, but now there she was, sitting in the archives and doing research with him. It was strange. That day had gotten stranger, though, when Tim had knocked on the open door to Jon’s office with Basira in tow.

“Hey boss, sorry to interrupt, but someone’s here to see yooou!” He said in a sing-songy voice, shooting Martin an apologetic glance when he noticed him in the room.

“Ooh, it’s a party,” Tim added, noting the tense atmosphere between Melanie and Jon, and now Martin as well.

“Basira!” Jon had greeted her, seemingly very pleased.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt. I won’t be here long.” She said, and Melanie watched her warily.

“Who’s this, then? Another assistant? How many do you have?” She asked, looking between the four of them.

“I’m police,” Basira stated, and Melanie had stopped talking immediately.

“I’m just here to give you this last tape I managed to get and to tell you to stop calling me. I’m done with our arrangement.” She said, crossing the room to slide the small object to Jon. Martin saw Tim’s eyebrows raise high onto his forehead, and he whistled a long sliding note.

“That’s rough.” He whispered, and Jon shot him a tired look.

“That’s alright, I was expecting this.” He said, and Tim shook his head, though Martin could tell he was loving whatever he thought was happening.

“I wasn’t calling you about the tapes, anyway. I wanted to warn you about something you’ll be encountering soon.” Jon said, and Basira hesitated.

“What does that mean?” She asked, and Jon grabbed the tape from her lingering hand before she could take it back, dropping it into his desk drawer.

“Ah, it’s a bit complicated. Can you stick around?” He asked, and Melanie made an impatient sound.

“Whatever. I’m leaving. Please just talk to Diana for me.” She said, and with that, she was out the door. Her presence was soon replaced by Sasha, who looked concerned.

“What did you say to Mel– oh, my. What do we have here?” She asked.

“Another possible piece to the puzzle,” Jon said with mirth. Martin looked at him with concern. He was not usually a ‘fueled by chaos’ type of person. The stress was definitely getting to him.

“Excuse me?” Basira asked, tensing up. Sasha seemed ready to say something, but Tim grabbed her arm and dragged her out the door, motioning for Martin to follow.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” Basira asked, as they slowly filed out of the room, and Jon nodded.

“Why not? The more the merrier.” Jon had said with frantic energy before diving into a convoluted explanation of his visions and an encounter Basira would apparently have with the People’s Church of the Divine Host. Sasha had been appalled, and immediately tried to shut him up, much to Tim’s displeasure. He had been watching this all go down with rapt attention, grinning from ear to ear. Basira had interrupted partway through and left in a hurry, leaving Jon frustrated and slumped over his desk as Sasha continued to berate him. Martin found it rather odd that she seemed nervous about Jon’s decision to include others. She had been very interested in Jon’s visions before but had become slightly withdrawn after their meeting on Monday afternoon. She had brought up to Tim and Martin how it had been a while since they had seen or spoken to Elias, and once she brought it to light, Martin did have to agree that it was mildly concerning given what Jon had revealed about him so far. Where was he? What was he up to?

She and Jon had had a small argument that very morning about it before she left for the library, her yelling that telling someone about his visions was enough to alter their path, and him wondering why that was a bad thing when all their paths led to unsavory outcomes.

“I _want_ to change the future. That’s the _point_!” He had said, and Sasha had shaken her head.

“You’re being too obvious about it!” She had yelled before grabbing her laptop and storming out. Jon had watched her leave in bewilderment before retreating back into his office without so much as a glance at Martin and Melanie, who looked at each other with mutual confusion.

“Is it usually like that here?” She asked, and Martin shrugged.

“We don’t really have a ‘usually.’”

They had been quiet since then, and Martin was finding it hard to concentrate on the old letters that Victorian men had written to Jonah Magnus. His mind was wandering, as it was bound to do. Jon had been… distant since Monday night. He thought that they would be closer after getting to know each other a bit and Martin couldn’t get the idea out of his head that he had done something wrong. Unhelpfully, his mind kept replaying the end of that evening’s events.

“Jon. C’mon. You need to go to bed.” Martin had said, kneeling by the other man’s shoulder and gently nudging him. He had turned the TV off, and Jon hadn’t seemed to care very much. He wasn’t quite asleep yet, he could tell, but he was quite past coherent.

“No,” Jon said, his voice rather petulant. Martin sighed.

“You’re going to ache if you sleep on the couch like that all night.” He argued, wondering if there was any point on trying to convince a drunk Jon of anything when sober Jon was so difficult to work with. To Martin’s surprise, Jon just nodded his head and turned slightly toward him.

“Carry me.” He said, and his tone was more of a command than a question. Martin huffed a laugh, and Jon smiled at the sound. His eyes alternated between opened and closed with long blinks, and he reached an arm out to Martin, fully intending to be scooped up. Martin didn’t need more of an invitation than this and put an arm under his shoulders and knees. Jon’s arms immediately wrapped around Martin’s neck much tighter than necessary, his face buried against his chest as he stood.

Jon had said he was a lightweight when it came to drinking. He was also rather small, Martin had pointed out after a drink or two, and Jon had frowned and stuck his chin out and said, much to Martin’s amusement, “I am not.” Now that Martin was carrying him, though, with absolutely zero difficulties, he was never going to be able to argue otherwise.

As Martin passed through the doorway to his room, Jon sighed against him and murmured something incoherent into his chest. Martin smiled fondly.

“What was that?” He asked, and Jon had enough presence of mind to move his head to be heard.

“You’re very comfortable.” He slurred, and Martin thought he was going to have a heart attack. He hurried over to relieve himself of his charge before his knees got too weak.

Martin set Jon on his bed, and his clinging arms retracted without any detachment efforts. Jon immediately recognized where he was and began to get under the covers. Martin nodded, pleased with his success of getting Jon off the couch for the night. Once Jon was under the sheets he reached down and produced his trousers, which he dropped on the floor. Martin nodded and made to leave.

“I’m going to get you some water.” Martin said, and as he left the room he nearly ran into the doorframe as Jon called out, “Thank you, love.” He must have _really_ been out of it.

Martin was feeling soberer by the minute. He got a glass from the cabinet and filled it three quarters with water before grabbing a couple of painkillers from the bathroom. When he returned to deposit these items on the nightstand, Jon was fast asleep, his head to the side and his mouth slightly open. Martin smiled and admired him for a second, wondering how bad of a headache he’d have in the morning. He sighed to himself, wondering if it would be creepy or acceptable if he wanted to sleep in his own bed next to him. He imagined how sweet Jon would look in the early morning sun and wondered if he would curl into him as they slept, waking in each other’s arms… but he decided that tipsy choices were bad choices, and he headed out to take the couch for himself. The night had already been an overwhelming success in his eyes. They had chatted, flirted, casually and comfortably, like two people who weren’t dealing with otherworldly forces. He plopped onto the couch and attempted to make himself comfortable, drifting off to thoughts about what it would have been like if monsters weren’t real and they were simply two men in love.

That next morning was a wake-up call, though. Jon was polite but clipped and reserved. They had gone into work together, obviously, but had spoken very little. Martin was worried that he had broken some unspoken boundaries or made him uncomfortable in some way, but Jon didn’t say anything of the sort. He had smiled at him and answered any questions he asked, but he hadn’t looked him in the eyes.

Martin took a deep breath. He was getting worked up again over nothing. Except it wasn’t nothing, because Jon was already looking to head back to his own flat mere days later. Martin knew, logically, that Jon hadn’t been intending to stay at his place for long, but he couldn’t help but think that he had forced him out sooner than necessary.

Martin was distracted from his thoughts by Melanie standing from her desk, grabbing her denim jacket off the back of her chair and slinging it on.

“I’m heading out. I won’t be back tomorrow.” She said, and he nodded. To his knowledge, she didn’t actually work here, so he wasn’t quite sure why she would be back at all. He knew he was only the owner of this information because everyone else was otherwise occupied; she seemed to get along with Sasha the best out of the four of them. He would have to relay this to Jon before they left themselves. _Oh, joyous day._

“Alright. Take care.” He said, and she smiled at him.

“Thanks. You too.” She pulled on the tiny backpack she had brought and left, leaving Martin all alone with his thoughts and the statement in front of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO pleased to finally bring Melanie and Basira into this! THE GIRLS!


	22. Offer - Tim

Things were not going well in Tim’s eyes. If anyone had cared to ask how he felt about the archives at that moment, they would’ve gotten quite the earful, but of course, no one did ask him. They had all gotten too busy with their own problems. Martin was absolutely fawning over Jon after some personal mishap that he didn’t seem too keen to elaborate on, though Tim would’ve loved to hear it. Martin had become slightly withdrawn since Jon had started rooming with him, which didn’t seem like a good sign. He had been hoping that maybe they could just hash out whatever tension was between them, but it did not seem like that would be the case. Sasha had been getting distant as well, becoming irritable and jumpy, looking off into the void, zoning out while he was talking to her. Tim was getting worried. He noticed dark purplish bags under her eyes and knew she wasn’t sleeping very well. She was beginning to act more like Jon than Jon was. The man had become rather frantic and strange as of late, not bothering to fully explain all his visions in favor of granting them all disjointed and often nonsensical half-stories before leaving him with a seemingly unrelated statement. Tim had given up on trying to follow up on any of them, wondering if it would really be so bad if they just let the world end. It probably wouldn’t be that awful now that they had made some changes.

Tim was tired of changes, though. As if the dynamic between the four of them wasn’t already strained enough, Melanie kept popping in to talk to Jon or pour through random files. She was very focused on whatever her own goal was, and though she wasn’t outright rude, she certainly didn’t like to be interrupted, nor did she appreciate Tim’s attempts at conversation. Basira had not been back after what Tim joking referred to as the Breakup. Jon did not appreciate that title, and neither did Martin by the look on his face whenever he brought it up.

Leaving the institute was always the highlight of Tim’s day. He packed up before anyone else, not that anyone said anything about it, and headed home in one of a couple of flavors of sour mood, depending on what trials the day had brought. That day, Sasha had all but ignored him while staring at her laptop, Martin had dropped two boxes of files at two separate points when Jon and then Tim had come up to speak to him, and Jon had declared that they needed to be on the lookout for a man named Jared, who was likely to attack the institute at an unknown date. Tim was bound to get a bit paranoid himself if he took all of Jon’s warnings seriously, so he began trying to forget about them. Every time Jon handed him a statement, he began to correct the grammar and punctuation with his favourite red pen rather than whatever he was asked to do with it. It was therapeutic for him, and it actually made Sasha laugh when she saw it, though she quickly went back to being absorbed in her laptop. By the time 3 o’clock rolled around, Tim had had enough. He left without anyone asking where he was going, because why would they?

He was nearly to the lobby before he saw a sharply dressed man walking toward him from farther down that hall.

_Shit_.

“Afternoon, Tim. Heading out rather early, are we?” Elias greeted, eyeing Tim coolly and levelly as always. Tim sighed to himself. The most predictable person in the institute right now was his creepy and definitely evil boss. That was not a good sign.

“Yep, I am.” He said, still not sure what exact brand of evil Elias actually was. Tim was unaware of what being an eldritch-powered body-hopping old man really did to one’s morals, but Elias did seem as proper and unfazed as ever. He wondered as he gazed at him with sickly green eyes if they had always looked so luminescent, or if they were slowly becoming spookier as he aged. Did he still age?

“You seem rather tense. I hope everything is going alright down there. Jon’s not working you too hard, is he?” He asked, and Tim felt his skin crawl for no apparent reason. God, he wished Jon would be alright with just killing Elias, but apparently, it would kill the rest of them, and he obviously wasn’t going to risk hurting Sasha or Martin. _Or Jon_ , he conceded to himself.

“What do you want?” He asked, noticing how Elias was subtly blocking him from the exit. It was laughable, really, as he was shorter and smaller than Tim, not to mention at least twenty years older in that body. Tim did not have the patience for whatever he was playing at.

“I merely wanted to check in. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a chance to speak to any of you. You’ve all been quite busy, it seems.” He said, and Tim wanted very badly to roll his eyes or punch him, so he settled for the former.

“Yeah, well, we’re at work. We’re working. That’s the point.” He said, wondering if he could get in trouble for walking away. If Elias fired him, he’d likely be free from this mess. It was very tempting.

“All work and no play? That doesn’t sound like you, Tim. Make sure you put aside some time for your own pursuits.” He said, and Tim didn’t hide his mildly confused and revolted expression at his words.

“What are you on about?” He asked, telling himself he should leave before this strange encounter became a bad one.

“If Jon isn’t giving you… relevant tasks, it wouldn’t be the end of the world to use the time to look into some of your own concerns, as long as he doesn’t know about it, of course.” He said, and Tim tilted his head in curiosity, listening in silence. Elias took this as permission to continue.

“I know you had your reasons for coming to the Institute, specifically for entering in through Research, and I don’t want to see that passion die.” He said with a peculiar flicker in his eye. “I have a couple of things here that might be of interest to you, if you agree to keep them between us,” He said, revealing a folder in his hand. Tim hadn’t seen him holding it before, but he must have just not been paying attention. He stared at the folder intently for a moment. It had to be something about Danny or the Stranger. It _had_ to be. He wasn’t sure how Elias knew anything about that, about him, but if he did, then Jon was likely right in all of his assessments of him. He was an all-knowing and manipulative freak who was willfully offering Tim useful information. This had to be some sort of trap.

“What do you get out of this?” He asked, not bothering for subtlety. Elias sighed in a disappointed way.

“Would you believe me if I said I have your best interests at heart?”

“No.”

“Well, then, it’s not that.” Elias’s expression was still unbothered. “May I ask why you seem so upset with me?” Tim was not expecting that. “Have I done anything to make you uneasy? To harm any of you?” He continued. Tim pursed his lips in thought. Was he testing him?

“Technically, no. Not yet.” He admitted slowly. Elias hummed in response.

“Ah, yes. _Yet_. Is that based on what Jon has been saying? That I could do something terrible and dastardly? That I will, given time?” Tim blinked. He was confessing that he knew about Jon’s visions despite the fact that none of them had told him about them. “I can see you weren’t expecting me to speak freely about this, but I do think it's important to address. Would you come up to my office for a moment?” He asked, motioning towards the large doors to their right that led to the library and the upper levels. Tim shook his head.

“I think some privacy might be best.” Elias urged. Tim stood up straighter.

“Say what you’re going to say. Right here.” He said, crossing his arms. Elias gave him a look.

“Really, Tim, are you trying to intimidate me? It won’t work.” He said, and Tim wondered how true that was. Elias looked a tad frustrated but otherwise unaffected.

“Alright, if you want to do this in the open, then so be it.” Tim – 1, Elias – 0.

“I just don’t want your good judgment clouded by ill-founded suggestions. To my knowledge, the future is not under the domain of any of the forces that may influence us.” Elias said, lowering his voice slightly even though the hall they were in was quite empty. “If Jon’s attack left him with knowledge of what else is out there and no guidance for how to use that information, then he could be reading into it incorrectly, making connections that aren’t there and using that overactive imagination of his to create a narrative that makes sense to _him_.” Tim blinked. Was Elias psychoanalyzing Jon for him?

“You think he’s making it up?” He asked, and Elias raised a placating hand.

“Not maliciously. I assume he believes it all to be quite true. We know he isn’t intentionally cruel,” He said. “But I am surprised that the rest of you fell into line behind his rather… _inventive_ ideas so wholly.” He said, and Tim swallowed. He believed Jon. He _did_. Even if he was making less and less sense, and he hadn’t actually predicted anything that had played out like he said it would…

“And what does this have to do with that folder?”

“Oh, nothing. This is truly just for you, Tim. A small token of appreciation for all that you do here. You really are a hard worker. Or you were, at least.” He said with a pointed look at his watch, and Tim closed his eyes for a moment. Even as a normal, human boss, Elias would still be annoying.

When Tim opened his eyes, Elias was watching him patiently, the folder clasped firmly in his hand at his side just out of an acceptable angle for Tim to snatch it and run. He wasn’t sure what the downside could really be here, apart from entering into a deal with the man. Would he owe him if he accepted this? Be forced to repay his debt in some awful way? Tim took a breath, knowing he had been silent for longer than socially acceptable. This was about Danny. He had found nothing but dead ends so far, and this was his first possible lead in a long time, but he didn’t want to appear like he was agreeing with Elias’s assessment of Jon by accepting his help. He didn’t feel like he had much of a choice. He hated that. He hated Elias for putting him in this position, supernatural or not.

“Fine. Hand it over.” He snapped. Far from seeming put off by Tim’s anger, Elias broke out in a huge smile as he gave Tim the folder.

“I’m glad to be of service. Just be careful about who sees that; we don’t want the others to think I’m giving you preferential treatment.” He said, and Tim was about ready to change his mind and deck him. It would be _so_ satisfying. The folder in his hands distracted him, though, and he quickly darted around Elias and out the doors of the institute, ready to discover what secrets he had been given.


	23. Confidante - Jon

Jon exited the institute just before dark, a feat that always pleased him. The others had all left already, including Martin, and though he had been trying to put some distance between them he was still rather surprised by how sad it made him to realize he hadn’t waited up for him. Jon had decided that tonight would be the last night he stayed with him. It wasn’t fair to impose on him any longer, especially when he had so much on his mind that made being around him… difficult. Martin was frustratingly eager to help Jon with anything he could possibly need, and Jon was finding the inability to seclude himself in his office a severe hindrance at Martin’s flat. He knew that Martin could see he was trying to avoid him, and while he hadn’t outright asked, Jon knew that he could only avoid his forlorn gazes and heavy sighs for so long before he came off as uncaring and secretive and just plain _rude_. He didn’t want to upset him. He begrudgingly made his mind up to try to check in with Martin before he left, make sure he wasn’t actively angry with him or anything of the sort. There was no reason for them not to continue being friends – at a safe emotional distance, of course.

He hadn’t bothered to button his coat, but now that he was outside, Jon could feel how frigid it was. He took his mittens off as he walked, grabbing one between his teeth. Once he was adequately bundled, he put his mittens back on and adjusted his satchel. He walked rather quickly down the street and was near the tube station when he heard a voice call out from behind him.

“Jon!” He jumped at the unexpected address. Spinning to find the owner of the voice, he was surprised again to see that it was Sasha, emerging from the space between two tall buildings. A single passerby also seemed to have been startled by her sudden appearance and ran past Jon with an alarmed expression. 

“Are you alright?” He asked once he had recovered from his own shock.

“Are you?” She asked, not attempting to hide her amusement. She moved to join him, her hands in the pockets of her brilliantly red jacket.

“Yes, you just startled me. What were you doing skulking around over there?” He asked, eyeing the dark alcove she had been pressed into.

“Waiting for you.” She said, and he blinked at her.

“Is- is this a prank? I expect this kind of behavior from Tim, but not from you.” He said, eyeing her with confusion. Was this payback for their earlier argument? He knew she was put off by his newfound openness, but he was practically overflowing with warnings for everyone at this point, and he had to tell _somebody_ , so why not everybody? It would likely be less annoying for everyone to get small and relevant pieces as opposed to one person getting all of it at once, as he had. 

“It’s not a prank. I just needed to talk to you. Let’s keep walking.” She urged, and he obliged.

“Why couldn’t you text me? Or tell me at the institute?” He asked, and she looked at him as if he were crazy.

“You know why we can’t talk at the institute. You’re the one who told us about Elias – Jonah – whatever we’re calling that bastard. And that is exactly what this is about.” She said. Jon had to focus on keeping up with her pace, as her legs were a bit longer than his.

“On the topic of your visions,” She continued, “I agree with what you were saying the other day. About needing to find a way to stop Elias permanently.” Jon wondered where this was going. He could feel the ‘but’ coming. 

“You also know that he can watch us. It doesn’t really matter if you whisper about it or shout.” She said, and he felt a tad attacked. “He knows everything, not just what happens there.” She said, glancing at him, and he furrowed his brows at her intensity. Her eyes looked tired behind her thin round glasses, and her posture was slightly slouched.

“Are you suggesting we need to talk in code?” He asked, starting to feel a bit paranoid at her demeanor. They were still walking as if he were going home. _Not home, Martin’s._

“Not quite. There’s no way to ensure he couldn’t decipher it.”

“Then what is this about?” She looked at him with a measured expression, as if trying to preemptively gauge his response to whatever she was about to say.

“You can’t relay your plans regarding him, or your visions in general, to anyone but me.” She said. If he had been expecting her to say anything, it wasn’t that. He opened his mouth without speaking. If she didn’t want him to tell the others, she likely had a good reason. He worried for a moment, though. He knew he had avoided her death and replacement, but this was a strange request, to say the least. What if she had been taken over by the Not!Them without his knowledge? What if the subtle glimpses of another Sasha he saw in his mind were the original, and this Sasha was the imposter? He could feel a headache coming on.

“How on Earth will that help anything?” He asked, slowing his pace down. He liked to move and fidget when he thought, but he also felt the need to look fully at her face while she spoke.

“If we all know the plan, it won’t be a secret from him, and it won’t work if he sees it coming.” She argued, and Jon was still waiting to hear why she was the exception to this rule, and he said as much.

“We need to split the knowledge only between those who can keep it effectively hidden, and right now the only people who can do that are you, me, and…” She took a bracing breath, “and Cass.”

Jon blinked, and he stopped walking completely. He misheard her. Sasha froze herself mid-step and turned to look at him. Maybe he didn’t mishear. Was that more concerning? He thought it was. Sasha seemed mildly apprehensive, but not like she understood the gravity of what she was saying.

“Do you – have you been in contact with them?” He asked incredulously.

“Do you trust me?” She asked, and Jon sputtered, fighting back the urge to argue.

“I – you – you didn’t answer my question.”

“And you didn’t answer mine.” She retorted. He sighed. They were both very stubborn. This could continue all night.

“Yes, I trust you.” He said slowly, thoughtfully, painfully. 

“Good. Then I need you to humor me.” She said, and Jon closed his eyes for a minute, trying to reason through this. Right now, he had no reason not to trust her. He nodded solemnly, though it hurt him.

“Alright, so, what, I just pretend I can’t see the future anymore?” he asked, not letting this go easily. If she wanted things to go her way, he was going to make her work for it, spell it out for him. She rolled her eyes and began walking away.

“No,” She said as Jon tried to catch up again, “You can do what you have been. Better yet, find some busy work for Melanie and the guys and intersperse it with relevant research. Elias won’t know what you’re up to, and they’ll be able to help without becoming liabilities.” She said, and Jon had to admit that it sounded clever, though he didn’t like how she had called the others ‘liabilities.’

“While I tell you all about whatever my master plan is?” He asked. She nodded.

“Yes. He can’t see _our_ thoughts, so we can help each other out. You’re not alone in this.” She said, and Jon was a storm of conflicting emotions.

“Why can’t he see our thoughts, and how do you know that?” He asked, trying not to jump to conclusions before she had the chance to speak. It was incredibly difficult.

“Cass told me.” She said, and Jon’s mind was alight with warnings. Sasha could see it in his eyes and immediately tried to placate him. “I know you think they’re the problem, but they’re trying to help. They have been from the beginning. I – I have spoken to them since their visit to the institute –”

“ _Visit?_ ” Jon couldn’t help but interrupt.

“Alright, attack, sorry, but I have spoken to them, and their intent was to help. They want you to use your visions to prevent the apocalypse.” She said, lowering her voice as they passed more people on the street.

“They can’t do it alone. They didn’t know exactly how to go about it, but they did what they thought would be best and came to you. When we turned them away, they were worried that you alone would be just as unaware as they were, so they came to me and gave me the ability to help out as well. I’m the mediator between you two, I guess.” She explained. Jon was still stuck on the fact that she had hidden this from him. This was much more than a simple white lie. This was willful deception. He was panicking slightly, unsure whether he was more angry, annoyed, afraid, agitated, _any other emotion that started with ‘A’…_

“How many times have you contacted them?” He asked, and Sasha seemed to be losing her patience just as quickly as he was.

“A couple of times.” She said, infuriatingly dismissive. “Look, Jon, can you just put your distaste for them aside for a minute and listen to what I’m saying? Does anything I’ve said so far actually not make sense to you?” He rubbed one fuzzy mitten into his closed eyes, needing a sensation to ground him.

“I – I don’t know. I suppose it makes sense. It’s just a lot to take in all at once.” He said, and he felt Sasha place a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her with a very raw and tired expression, and she mirrored it without comment.

“So Cass isn’t… evil?” He asked, and Sasha actually smiled a bit.

“No, they are decidedly _not_ evil. They might even be good.” She said with her smile.

“I’m going to need to think that over.” He said weakly. Sasha’s smile faltered.

“I get that. I’m sorry. But I need you to promise that you’ll do this for me. Talk to me, yell at me, complain, whatever, but don’t talk to the others about this stuff anymore. It’s for their safety.” She said, and Jon could feel his resolve slipping. The whole point of all of this was to keep them safe.

“Fine. I get it.” He said, and she rubbed her thumb over his shoulder affectionately. He could feel the slight movement through his coat and pulled away from it slightly. She dropped her hand and slid it back into her pocket.

“Thank you, Jon. I promise it’ll work out better this way.” She said, and he nodded absentmindedly. Now he was going to have to hide even more from Martin. _Lovely_.

“I’m going to head home, now, but let me know if you need anything. Even if it’s not work-related. I’m here as always.” She said, and he tried to smile at her. It was almost humorous how the phrase ‘work’ now translated to ‘preventing the apocalypse.” At least they were still getting paid. He said goodnight to her briskly and turned to continue to Martin’s before she had the chance to walk away. He was too tired to care if he was being cold towards her, and literally too cold to be standing outside any longer than necessary. He mulled it all over in his head.

Cass was now an ally, according to Sasha. He was correct in his suspicions of Elias – more than suspicions, his _knowledge_ – and he was so dangerous that they needed to stop giving the others inside information for fear he would intercept it. Jon would need a clever reason to get them all off Elias’s case. Tim was going to be a pain if he thought they were hiding something from him; Martin was already put-off by Jon’s sudden shift in mood towards him; Melanie trusted him about as far as she could throw him, and Jon knew that while Basira wouldn’t be back for a while, she would have Daisy in her ear about them all soon enough. Though maybe that was a future concern? Jon sighed wearily. It was getting difficult for him to tell what had already happened and what was still coming.

Jon couldn’t stop stressing about the whole thing during his commute. He had to open his mouth slightly to relax his jaw when he realized he had been grinding his teeth. His fingers twitched at his coat pocket absentmindedly and he momentarily wished he had a cigarette. He knew he was going to be preoccupied when he got to Martin’s and was now debating whether this would really be his last night there; he really didn’t want to pack up his bag. If Cass wasn’t dangerous, though, then there was no longer a reason to stay away from his own flat. _I'll be lonely without Martin._ He had to leave. It wasn't like he had actually gotten used to having a roommate. Jon _liked_ living alone. Besides all that, Jon now had to come up with a brilliant plan to stop Elias for good without killing him – and by extension, all of them – in secret. _But first_ , he thought as he approached Martin’s door, _I have to make sure Martin doesn't hate me._ He'd have to placate him without telling him the truth about anything. What could possibly go wrong? _... a lot_. The worst outcome he could imagine would be losing Martin, then Tim, then Sasha - all of his friends - by lying to them, and then them all dying horribly as a result of his carelessness. But that was ludicrous, and certainly wouldn’t happen _unless they all fell helplessly into the future he saw without his direct guidance_. He took a breath to try and ground himself. He had gone on for a long while without having any friends, he could go back to that for a time if it meant keeping the people he cared about safe. He hesitated slightly with his hand on the doorknob, dread filling him. He was a terrible liar, even to himself.


	24. Coincidence - Sasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely the longest chapter I've written for this so far. I adore Sasha and I can't help myself. I'm probably gonna have to write more Sasha-centric fics after this cause loving Sasha James hours just do not end. GIVE HER GOOD THINGS

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Sasha blinked a couple of times, finally registering Melanie standing next to her desk, one hand frozen mid-gesture. Tim and Martin had left for the day and to Sasha’s knowledge, Jon was still in his office scrambling to come up with a plan to avoid their doom. She and Melanie were the last ones in the open space of the archives, not that she had been aware of that until then.

“Sorry. I didn’t catch that.” She looked up at Melanie from her position slouched in her desk chair to see the shorter woman narrow her eyes.

“Didn’t catch my last sentence or this whole conversation?” Sasha felt a wave of guilt hit her.

“Uh. The latter, unfortunately.” She admitted, not willing to pretend and try to play catch-up. That seemed to be the right decision. Melanie stuck her chin out.

“What’s up?” Melanie asked, and Sasha shook her head.

“I’m just tired.” She said, and it was the truth. She was exhausted. Her head felt heavy and sore, her shoulders and neck ached, her muscles felt like she had been on a marathon, and her mind was being invaded by a thick fog. It had been a long day and a nearly sleepless night before. Melanie gathered this relatively quickly, giving Sasha an obvious once-over. She likely assumed she was suffering the effects of a hangover or an all-nighter rather than the fruitless attempts to sleep with a powerful aura of dread drifting through her entire flat. Cass was quiet, sure, but the walls were drenched with their anxious presence, and though it had taken a couple of days to fully settle in, the heavy weight of hopelessness had even gotten into Sasha’s bed, making sleep a difficult endeavor.

“So, why are you here?” Melanie asked pointedly, and Sasha would’ve laughed in any other circumstances. 

“I work here.” She said dryly, and Melanie leaned heavily into her desk, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

“You practically live here.”

“I’m not nearly as bad as the others,” She said with a smile, “Jon pulled all-nighters before anything truly weird even went down, and Martin actually did live here for a couple months.” Melanie frowned and scanned the cavernous room with all its shelves and filing cabinets.

“That’s absurd. It also explains a lot about the two of them.” Sasha wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but she was pleased that Melanie had gotten something from the information. Melanie’s drifting gaze finally settled back on Sasha.

“They’re good people.” She said, still feeling the need to defend her coworkers and friends. Melanie looked unconvinced.

“I bet. When they’re not dealing with an apocalyptic event, right? Cause right now everyone seems a bit. Meh.” She said with a wavy hand motion. Sasha dropped her eyes down to her laptop screen and the file she had open. She wasn’t even doing any useful work at this point. Why _was_ she here?

“Hey, you can talk to me, you know,” Melanie said, and Sasha tilted her head at the unexpected statement, her gaze jumping back to the woman.

“Thank you.” She wanted to return the offer and the friendship underneath it, but she was far too tired and honestly knew she wouldn’t be able to listen to Melanie rant about anything at the moment without tuning it out like she had just been doing. Melanie didn’t seem to pick up on that, though, and continued talking.

“This whole situation is so _bizarre_. Fear gods, visions, evil bosses…” Sasha’s eye twitched slightly. She snuck her hand into her pocket to grab onto the coin that was now always with her. “I mean, I study and track down ghosts for a living, and I’ve not stumbled into anything this big until after meeting you lot. You must be at your wit’s end.”

“We’re managing.” It came out a bit sharper than she had intended. Melanie’s blue eyes seemed to scan her soul, and Sasha worried for a moment that she could read her thoughts.

“I know you have friends here, but, if you want an unbiased opinion on anything…” Sasha raised an eyebrow.

“Unbiased, huh?” She asked, trying to keep her face neutral. Melanie laughed.

“Alright, well, an outside opinion, at least. You can’t get all your references from one source.” She said, and Sasha smiled at the analogy. 

“So, what were you trying to say, before?” She asked, attempting to get back on track. It was nearly an acceptable time for her to leave, and she knew Melanie didn’t stick around for long periods of time. She had said that the institute gave her ‘bad horror movie vibes’ that she wanted to avoid. She began to close out of her tabs on her laptop.

“Oh, right. Well, your creepy boss – not Jon, the other one, Elias? – He offered me a job here.” Sasha stilled, her hand hovering on her mouse. She made sure to keep her voice even as she replied, though she felt slightly sick.

“What?”

“Yeah, I saw him in the hall on my way in. It was weird. He walked right up and introduced himself, knew exactly who I was, somehow, and asked if I’d like to “join the team” since I’ve been spending so much time here, apparently.” She explained.

“What did you say?” Sasha asked, trying to wrack her brain for what Melanie knew about everything. Had Jon told her that they were trapped there? That Elias was evil? Or only what was directly relevant to her? The rage bullet and –

“I said no, _obviously_. Jon told me about me blinding myself to leave here. On the off-chance that part is true – which I’m not convinced it is – I don’t want to take any chances. I’d rather keep my sight if given the choice.” She said, and Sasha relaxed a bit. The further from Jon’s future they got, the better. He would likely be pleased as well.

“I mean, I _am_ looking for a job now, and my expertise is in the supernatural, but a friend of mine who’s in the field, her name’s Georgie, has a… well, a rather cheesy ghost podcast, but I might help her out with that now that my own show’s kind of falling apart.” Sasha nodded, already sort of tuning her out in her relief. _Good_ , she thought. _Something normal_. As if ghosts were more normal than fear entities. They were probably all one and the same.

“I remember Georgie. I talked to her for a follow-up on your statement.” Sasha said, the memory coming back to her as she spoke.

“Oh, sick, yeah! You should come hang out with us sometime. I bet she’d love you.” She said, and Sasha nodded before she realized what she was doing. Melanie looked delighted. “We were gonna go out tonight if you want to join? I know she wouldn’t mind –” Panicked, Sasha tried to backtrack.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe when this stuff is all over, though? I’m just… really busy right now.” Melanie looked at her sympathetically, her excitement draining.

“Yeah, sure. Just like, take breaks and stuff, okay? I don’t need you turning all grumpy and sullen like Jon. It’s bad enough with one of him around. I can’t imagine dealing with _two_.” Sasha smiled politely and watched as Melanie unglued herself from her desk.

“I’m gonna make myself scarce for a while. I got all I wanted here for now, and with Elias noticing me, I’d like to try to get away, but let me know if you need me, okay?” She said, still standing in Sasha’s field of vision so she couldn’t ignore her.

“Of course. I’ll be in touch. Take care, Melanie.” Seemingly satisfied, Melanie nodded once, her blue hair bouncing.

“I’ll hold you to that. See you around.” Sasha watched as she grabbed her coat and bag and headed out the double doors that led back up to the main floor of the institute. She was lively and refreshing, and her absence made the archives feel cavernous and intimidating. Sasha liked her. She could have real friends again when all this was over. That was something to look forward to. Sasha rubbed the coin in her pocket reassuringly, as if it were the one telling her these good things. She resumed clicking out of her tabs and closing everything down, glancing at the sliver of light under Jon’s office door that told her he was still in there. Despite her confidence in their previous conversation, she did feel bad for him. His position was a difficult one. But, so was hers, in a different way. She toyed with the idea of staying in the archives overnight but decided that being watched by Elias was infinitely less preferable than her flat with Cass, where she at least knew she was safe. She packed up without interrupting Jon and headed out.

It was dark inside when she arrived home, as always. The air felt cold, and she traded her shoes for slippers she kept by the door. She flicked on the light to reveal Cass lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. That was different. Her faded green chair was usually their go-to spot.

“I’m home,” She announced unnecessarily, and Cass did not move.

“So you are.” They responded, and Sasha sighed. The dread was extremely heavy today, and she wished it wasn’t so cold outside so she could try to open a window and air it out, not that it would likely work. She slumped into the chair, dropping her purse on the floor and letting her head fall back. At least it was comfortable; it was no wonder why they always sat there.

Sasha could feel the pervasive sadness in her bones already. She rubbed the coin in her pocket, remembering Melanie’s invitation to go out. Her research was all dead ends, Jon hadn’t contacted her, Tim hadn’t texted her in three days, and it wasn’t really like Cass would do anything while she way away, right? She looked over at them, and they were still lying unnaturally still. Sasha squinted and saw that their chest wasn’t moving. They weren’t even _breathing_. It was like having a corpse in the room.

“You could watch TV or something while I’m gone, you know.” She said, and they turned their head towards her.

“I know.” Sasha blinked.

“Do you not get bored? Or lonely?” She asked, her fingers agitatedly tapping on the arm of her chair.

“Not really.” They said, turning back to examine the smooth ceiling. Sasha got the sudden urge to throw a pillow at them, just to see what they’d do.

“I am getting the sense that _you_ get lonely. You do not need to stay here on my behalf.” They said, and Sasha sighed at the vocalization of her thoughts. She pulled her phone out to text Melanie before she could lose her resolve.

_On second thought, do you still have room for me in your plans tonight?_

_Oh my GOD yes_

_Cool, I just got home. Lmk where you guys are headed and I’ll meet you there_

_🙌_ _🙌_ _🙌_

Sasha smiled at Melanie’s excitement, feeling something other than dread. She glanced up at Cass with an idea forming in her mind. If they were going to sit and mope like this, the flat would be inhospitable when she got back.

_Would it be alright if I brought my roommate along? I think they could use some company_

_Wtf you have a roommate??_

_How did I not know this??_

_Yes OBVIously bring them_

_Thanks, we’ll see you soon_

_WAIT is it Tim??_

_No, their name is Cass_

_Okay well Cass is welcome to party with us. I’ll let Georgie know!_

Sasha felt a bit of relief at the prospect of getting out of there and finally gave in to her desire to throw a pillow at Cass. They didn’t even jump at the impact, which Sasha found unnerving, but they did hold it firmly and turn to look at Sasha.

“Why?” They asked, and Sasha laughed, her exhaustion spilling over into hilarity.

“Get up. We’re going out.” She said, and Cass looked dubious.

“What are you talking about?”

“You have been making my flat into your den of depression since you got here and it’s getting to me, so this is my payback.” She said, and much to her surprise, Cass moved to an upright position.

“You’re punishing me with social interaction?” They asked, and Sasha nodded vigorously.

“You know that the effect you are attempting to punish me for will likely ruin whatever social outing you have planned?” They asked evenly, and Sasha’s excitement faltered, but only momentarily.

“Nope. You don’t get to talk your way out of this. There’s no way you’re going to bring down a whole pub.” Cass was not convinced.

“That is exactly what I do, actually.” They said, and as if to punctuate their point, Sasha sunk back into the chair with the worry of putting all those people in danger –

“No.” She said, using all her effort to stand and resist. She was _so_ tired…

“We are going to go out and have fun, and you are going to make a conscious effort to act like a human being.” She said, Cass actually barked a short laugh, to her amazement.

“I haven’t been human for a long time.” They said, and Sasha rolled her eyes.

“I said _act_ like one, not be one. Just copy what I do and add your own flair.” She said, and she marched into her room and over to her closet. After rifling around for a moment, she grabbed a couple of things and marched back into the living room, throwing the bundle of clothes at Cass.

“I think these should fit you. Part of the deal is you wearing something that’s not grey or black.” She said, and Cass looked like they were ready to become one with the couch.

“Is this absolutely necessary?” They asked pleadingly, and Sasha nodded, heading back into her room to change her shirt as well.

“Yes, it absolutely is.”

Sasha saw Melanie’s distinctive hair and the vaguely familiar form of Georgie clinging near each other outside the pub. Why they decided to wait outside when it was nearly freezing out, she didn’t know, but she continued toward them with renewed speed. Sasha dragged Cass along by the wrist as she had been doing since they left her flat, Cass floating along beside her like a deflating balloon, though thankfully not literally floating. Melanie jumped up and down when she saw them, poking Georgie’s arm with excitement. Georgie was a bit shorter than Melanie, which made her much smaller than Sasha, and significantly shorter than Cass. Her dark hair was pulled into a voluminous ponytail, the edges of her eyeliner sharpening her round eyes. Everything about her seemed soft and kind, and Sasha assumed she would give fantastic hugs if she were the hugging type. All of that observation was dashed when she turned to look at her fully, though. She had strong energy about her, and Sasha did not doubt that she was incredibly tough. Her eyes, while soft and hazel, had a strange intensity, not unlike Melanie’s.

“Sasha!” Melanie greeted, beaming at her. “This is Georgie, obviously, and I assume this is the mysterious Cass?” She continued, her energy contagious.

“Yes, it is,” Sasha smiled and waved at Georgie.

“Nice to see you.”

“You two, but can we please get inside now? I’m going to turn into an icicle out here.” Georgie said, and Melanie jumped ahead of her to open the door to the pub. It was warm inside, and Sasha was glad to be able to take off her jacket. The girls beelined for a booth and Sasha pulled Cass to join them. They were extremely quiet, as expected, but Sasha had yet to feel their dreadful aura since stepping inside. She urged them to slide into the booth first, still rather wary of them wandering off without her. After a round of drinks was ordered, Melanie leaned onto the table, looking between Sasha and Cass.

“So. How long have you two been rooming together?” She asked, and Georgie raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. Sasha had been intending to make something up about it being the last couple of months, but to her surprise, Cass spoke first.

“One week.” They said plainly, and Melanie looked taken aback.

“Oh, super new roommate! How’d that happen?” She asked, and Sasha reached under the table for Cass’s hand which was sitting on the seat beside her, squeezing it and hopefully signifying that she should answer the next question.

“Well, the institute doesn’t pay like it should, and I was looking for a potential roommate to split costs with, and they came in to give a statement and mentioned needing a place to stay, and we sort of hit it off, so I thought, what the heck, why not?” She said, realizing that she had rambled a bit more than she had intended. Both Melanie and Georgie seemed perfectly satisfied with her answer though, and they both smiled at Cass genuinely.

“That’s so spontaneous. I love it.” Melanie said, and Georgie hummed in contemplation. Cass smiled at them in return, thankfully a normal smile and not the terrifying one they had shown to both her and Jon previously. The girls continued to pester them both with questions, and to Sasha’s surprise, Cass was able to answer them all without revealing that they were some ancient doomsday prophet. After they got their beverages, they took a moment from talking and laughing to breathe and drink, Georgie downing her beer with impressive speed.

“I still can’t believe what you told me the other day. About _him_.” Melanie said suddenly, nudging a beer-chugging Georgie’s arm. Georgie made a noise of recognition.

“Sasha,” She said as she slammed her empty stein onto the table, “What’s Jon like as a boss?” She asked, barely holding back a grin. Sasha looked at her strangely.

“I mean… he’s fine, I guess. Why?” She glanced at Melanie, who was looking at her with a knowing expression.

“Well, Melanie here only recently informed me who exactly she had been speaking to at the institute apart from you, and guess how surprised I was to hear that it was Jonathan _fucking_ Sims, my ex-boyfriend from university.” Sasha’s jaw dropped.

“ _No way_.” She said, and Melanie looked absolutely giddy.

“Right? Like, how? How?” She gestured to Georgie as she said this, apparently attempting to capture how much of a catch she was.

“Hey, he was fun in uni. Well, as fun as he could be. Still just as weird as I assume he is now.” She said, and Melanie nodded emphatically. Sasha was still reeling from this new information.

“Did you not know he was working at the institute?” Sasha asked, and Georgie waved her hand around.

“I knew he had started working there a couple years back, but he was in research then. We broke up shortly after he started there, and we weren’t exactly friends after the fact. We sort of check in with each other every now and then, but it’s not like we meet up to have lunch every week or anything.” She explained, and Sasha nodded, intrigued.

“I don’t mean to get into it too much, but it is a weird coincidence that everyone I know has been in touch with him recently. It’s like the universe is trying to push him back into my life for some reason.” She said, and Sasha felt Cass stir beside her.

“You alright?” She asked quietly, feeling a small spark of apprehension roll off of them.

“Fine, thank you.” They had barely touched their drink, but they stilled, looking at Georgie with a facsimile of interest, so Sasha turned her attention back to the conversation warily. 

“Yeah, well, he is a bit weird, but he’s a good guy, as I was attempting to tell Melanie earlier.” She said, making a playful face at her. Melanie laughed.

“He has our best interests at heart.” She continued, and Melanie crinkled her nose.

“He’s paranoid is what he is.” She laughed, and Georgie tilted her head.

“What do you mean?” She asked, and Sasha looked between the two of them with no small amount of concern. She had assumed that she wouldn’t have to worry about revealing dangerous information to anyone tonight since Cass had been showing competence in their human act.

“Hey, why don’t we avoid talking about work right now? I just left the institute for the night.” She said, trying to frame it in a palatable way. Melanie nodded vigorously.

“Of course, you’re right. This is a night of fun. I’m gonna get us more drinks.” She announced, and she jumped up to do so. Georgie turned to eye Cass as soon as Melanie was gone, attempting to include them more in the conversation.

“Working with spooky topics like ghosts sounds like it would be fun, but it kind of makes it hard to enjoy things like horror movies, you know?” Sasha nodded, but Cass remained quiet. “What about you, Cass, what do you do for work?” She asked, and Sasha idly wondered what they would say.

“I’m a pâtissier.” They replied, and Sasha couldn’t help herself from releasing a shocked laugh. Georgie shot her a confused look before turning back to Cass.

“That’s awesome. What’s your favorite thing to make?” She asked, and Cass actually smiled again.

“I enjoy braided bread.” They said with an air of comfort and sincerity that eradicated any traces of dread that Sasha had been feeling from them. Sasha felt mildly embarrassed at her reaction to their statement. Was this an elaborate lie, or were they actually an eldritch pastry chef? They certainly enjoyed the concept if it wasn’t true. By the time Melanie came back to the table, Cass was explaining the process of making tiramisu, and Melanie had no trouble joining Sasha and Georgie as their enraptured audience. The night moved on steadily, and Sasha eventually got up to use the bathroom without fear of Cass disappearing on her. On her way back to the booth, she saw a familiar face standing near the bar.

“Basira?” She asked, hovering next to the woman. She was wearing a dark blue hijab the same color as her own shirt, and Sasha wanted to point out that they matched.

“Sasha?” She said in kind, recognizing her with no small amount of surprise. A rather imposing woman beside her leaned back to look at Sasha, slightly glassy-eyed, one hand on Basira’s arm. She had short blonde hair, a small scar on her lip, and was easily Sasha’s height if not taller.

“Who’s this?” She asked, her speech not slurred but not sharply sober, looking at Sasha in a way that made her wonder if she was being perceived as a threat. She was decidedly too tipsy to be a threat at this point, even if she wanted to be, which she didn’t.

“One of the archival assistants at the Magnus Institute,” Basira responded, patting the woman’s arm. She did not seem calmed by the action.

“The place you’re doing a murder investigation in?” She asked, continuing to bore through Sasha with her eyes. Sasha glanced anywhere but the tall blonde woman.

“Drop it,” Basira said, and the woman huffed but obeyed, lowering her gaze.

“Are you here alone?” She asked Sasha, “I was just here to pick up Daisy, but I can give you a ride too, if you need it.” Sasha was torn between feeling touched that Basira would allow her to join them and rather surprised that her menacing companion was named after a flower. Sasha shook her head.

“Thank you, but I’m here with some friends.” She said, pointing at her booth in the back. Basira nodded.

“In that case, enjoy your night.” She said, and she began to pull Daisy after her, who stared at Sasha a moment longer before following her lead. Huh. Sasha made her way back to the booth and found Cass actually _giggling._

“I think we’ve found a new guest for _What The Ghost_!” Georgie exclaimed as Sasha sat down in bewilderment.

“Oh?” She asked, and Melanie wiped a tear from her eye.

“Your roommate is a riot. And they’ve got quite a number of ghost stories that they’re hoarding.” Georgie explained, and Sasha blinked through her surprise. How much had Cass been talking? And about what? This had probably been a bad idea…

“You know what? It’s getting rather late. We might have to head out.” She said, and Melanie groaned.

“No, this is so much fun!” She protested, leaning on the table. Georgie laughed. Though she drank the same amount as Melanie and Sasha, she certainly seemed to be the least drunk of the three of them. Apart from the uncharacteristic laughter, Cass did not seem affected in the slightest.

“That just means we’ll have to do it again sometime,” Georgie said, and Sasha gave her a thankful glance. She nodded at her with a smile, recognizing her desire to leave and not questioning it.

“Are you two going to get back alright?” Sasha asked, and Georgie nodded.

“Absolutely. She’s gonna crash at my place tonight. I’ll keep an eye on her.” Melanie made a little ‘ _woooo_!’ sound and raised an arm in the air.

Sasha smiled at them and thanked them for letting the two of them join before looking at Cass expectantly. They sighed as they slid to the end of the booth and Sasha held her hand out for them to take. Melanie watched them from her position half on the table with a smug little smile.

Sasha was struck by the cold when they got outside, and they made their way back to her flat as quickly as they possibly could; thankfully it wasn’t far. Cass drifted immediately into the soft green chair when they returned, and Sasha watched them as she removed her own shoes. Cass was still and quiet as usual, but they had a serenity about them that Sasha hadn’t gotten to see before. They closed their eyes with a small smile on their lips and startled Sasha as she passed to get to her room.

“Thank you.” They murmured, and Sasha faltered.

“Of course.” She responded, watching them for a moment before continuing to her room. When she finally got into bed, she happily realized that the flat was not full of dread and apprehension, but the normal cool air of a nearly-winter night. She sighed contentedly as she pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and swiftly fell into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone who's read this far! This is all for you!! <3


	25. Conflict - Martin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have a timeline of the last events figured out, and I have six more chapters planned after this one. The end is in sight!

Martin’s stomach was full of butterflies, but not ones borne of excitement. Well, there was a tad bit of excitement at the idea of ending the apocalypse. He was focusing on the statement in front of him, one of Adelard Dekker’s. Jon had been very excited when they stumbled upon one of them the day before, and he immediately went into a rant about how he had known about a possible fifteenth fear, that it was likely the culprit for the end of the world. Martin had wondered aloud how or why Elias would align with it, as Jon had already mentioned his involvement, but Jon had explained that while the details were still hazy for him, the bigger picture had finally become clear. He had, however, failed to mention what that ‘bigger picture’ was, though Sasha had later argued to him and Tim that it wasn’t important. Jon had given everything they could find about the Extinction, as he called it, to Martin and the others, who were now tasked with verifying everything that they could about it.

The Extinction was certainly a dreadful concept, and an entity he was sure they should be focused on stopping, but Martin was unused to reading so many statements about the same topic. He was seeing the connections and the strange subtle and not-so-subtle ways this emerging fear affected people, each statement entirely unique but within the same vein: their lives all ended, or were fated to end, in doom and despair. It was deeply unsettling, and he found himself a bit on edge as he continued to comb through and look for clues on how to stop it or how it was connected to Elias. His concentration was broken by the sound of Tim’s voice from Jon’s office. He looked up when the door opened and both men stormed out, Jon chasing after Tim.

“I’m not saying it isn’t important, I’m merely saying we have plenty of time – ” Jon was saying, but Tim interrupted.

“Plenty of time until what, until it all goes to shit? Until we are literally on death’s door? Is that what it’s going to take for you to actually _do_ something instead of just talking about it?”

“Guys!” Martin exclaimed, trying to wrench their heated attention off from each other. 

“I am doing something! We’re trying to gain information; we can’t just jump into action without knowing what we’re dealing with!”

“Well, if we don’t speed it up a bit, we’re going to end up the victim of some other entity while we’re all distracted with yours!”

“Hey, why don’t we tone it down?” Sasha yelled sternly, looking up from her laptop at them. Tim finally spun around to look at her.

“ _So_ sorry to disrupt our quiet work environment.” He said, heading for the main doors, and Sasha stood from her desk.

“Tim, don’t just leave! What are you so worked up about?” Tim slowed his pace to the door, straightened his back, rolled his shoulders, and turned back around.

“I have found a lot, and I mean _a lot,_ of evidence that the Stranger – the same entity that took my brother, the same entity that was going to get Sasha – is planning a world-ending ritual, and Mr. Doomsday over here doesn’t think that it’s worth our time.” Martin furrowed his brows, glancing between the three of them. Another ritual? Why hadn’t Jon seen this one coming?

“The one in my vision is much more pressing, and I assure you that if we take care of it, we won’t have to worry about the other fear’s attempts at their own rituals,” Jon said, making a visible effort to keep his voice at a respectable level.

“When is it?” Martin asked, looking towards Tim. “When is the Stranger’s ritual?” Tim looked back at Martin with relief flooding his features. Martin knew how important it was to be heard, and Jon and his bickering wasn’t going to help anything.

“Soon. Not like, next week soon, but it’s definitely close. I don’t have the exact date pinned down, yet, but we can figure that out together if you guys will take this seriously.” Martin nodded, taking it into consideration.

“Jon, when is the end of the world? How far do your visions go?” He asked, and Jon closed his eyes, looking like he was hating the answer that he would give.

“It’s… a while out, but time is of the essence…”

“How long?” Tim asked, sharper than Martin had.

“A couple of years.” He finally said, causing Tim to laugh incredulously and Sasha to let out a small noise of discontent.

“ _Years_? You’d have us focused on something that won’t happen for years and you think my findings aren’t pressing enough?”

“It’s hard to explain it, but I’m trying to keep us all safe.”

“So am I!” Tim said, his voice edging on desperate.

“Hey, maybe Tim’s right.” Tim startled at Sasha’s voice. “Would it be so bad to stop their plans? Mess with them a bit? It’s not like they’re friendly.” Jon looked at her with wide eyes, a look of confusion clear on his face.

“I – yes – I mean, we know, I know –”

“Know what?” Sasha asked. Jon floundered for a moment. Martin watched as something passed between Jon and Sasha. She seemed to be daring him to say more, to contradict her, and he wondered if Tim could see it as well.

“I know that stopping their ritual puts Tim in a position of danger.” He said slowly, and Sasha narrowed her eyes slightly, her attention still solely on Jon.

“Then I’ll help him with it. Martin can continue looking into the Extinction with you for now, and Tim and I will deal with this.” She said, and Jon seemed to realize something quite suddenly, all the anger and doubt on his face dashed in an instant.

“Right… right. That sounds fine. Thank you, Sasha.” He seemed to realize he was in the room with two other people then, noticing the strange looks Tim and Martin were giving him.

“I apologize, Tim. It does make sense. By all means, continue looking into it. Just be careful.”

Tim looked decidedly unsettled by the sudden turnaround, mirroring Martin’s own confusion.

“You’re sure?” He asked, looking between Sasha, who was smiling serenely at him, and Jon, who looked sheepish and tired.

“Yes. I’ll obviously help you with whatever you need, but I think it should be you and Sasha’s focus, as she said.” He explained, and he quickly turned to duck back into his office, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell was that?” Martin asked aloud, and Tim shrugged, looking frazzled.

“Beats me, but it was satisfying.” He said, and Sasha quickly grabbed her coat.

“He’s just stressed. We have to make sure we’re there for him, trusting him.” She said, and Martin nodded. He agreed, though it was hard to do when Jon continuously avoided them. He had tried to check in on Jon since he had moved back to his own flat, but he seemed more distant than usual. It was fine when Martin had something else to distract himself with, but Jon’s behavior was now concerningly strange and secluded, and whatever had been silently communicated between Jon and Sasha definitely confirmed Martin’s small and previously unfounded suspicion that they were hiding something from him and Tim.

“Why don’t we go back to your place and you can brief me on everything you’ve found?” Sasha said, gesturing for Tim to exit.

“You joining us?” Tim asked Martin, and he considered it heavily. It was certainly important, but he really didn’t want to leave Jon alone here, and the two of them were more than capable of going over some research together.

“I’ll pass for now. Still in the middle of a statement.” He said, brandishing said statement.

“Well, I’ll keep you in the loop,” Tim said, giving Martin a quick smile and wave before heading out. Martin returned the gesture and looked back down at his desk with a sigh. He wished he had found something important to contribute, though if it meant finding out that yet another fear was planning something, maybe he really didn’t want to find anything. The best thing for him to do at that point was to try and focus on what exactly the Extinction’s ritual would be. He glanced up at Jon’s door. It would be easier and go by quicker if they worked on it together, but he doubted Jon would want to.

Alone again, with nothing but the Extinction to keep him company. Excellent. Martin rummaged through the files in the folder on his desk. Jon had asked him to go through them in a specific order, but Martin didn’t feel like following arbitrary rules at the moment, especially if he wasn’t going to help him out with it. He pulled a few files out from the bottom, noticing a few letters to Jonah. It was strange to think that this man had been involved in everything for so long. Maybe, if Martin was clever, he could talk to him, gain some information… but no. He was an experienced avatar of the Eye, and Martin definitely wasn’t. All he would do is put himself in danger. One of the files was a tad older looking than the others, and Martin pulled it out. He recognized the name Robert Smirke and remembered Tim talking about him a while back. Interested, he slid his previous statement away and began to read this one, wondering what the architect who Jon had said classified the entities knew about those outside the fourteen.

About ten minutes later, Martin rushed into Jon’s office, barely bothering to knock before letting himself in.

“Martin?” Jon asked, obviously startled. “I thought you left with Tim and Sasha.”

“No, no, I stayed to read the statements you gave me.”

“Oh. Is everything alright?” he asked, settling back against his chair. If it weren’t for the smooth, uncrumpled papers on his desk, Martin would’ve assumed he had woken Jon from a nap. His hair, which was nearly chin-length at this point, was mussed as if he had been running his hands through it, which Martin knew he only did when he was stressed or exhausted, usually both.

“I – uh, well, I found something in this statement that you might find interesting. I know you don’t talk about what it’s like, the actual apocalypse, and I’m not saying you have to, but there’s a short description in this one of a dream that Robert Smirke had of what the world might be like after the Eye’s ritual, and I was thinking that maybe it’s not the Extinction at all, but the Eye that ends the world? Which would make a lot more sense as to why Elias is involved –”

“Martin!” Jon stopped him darting his eyes about the room. “Bring it over.” He said, softer, motioning for Martin to approach his desk. He felt momentarily bad for rambling, but he was excited to have found something that may be helpful. He pointed to the passage he was referring to, and Jon read aloud:

_“I have been dreaming again, Jonah. The same every night for months, now. I imagine myself a boy again at Aspley. I awake, cold and alone in the dormitory. The sky outside is dark, and I see no stars. I light a candle, to better see my way, and step down the silent corridor. The master’s rooms are empty, the fire in the kitchen is dead. Eventually my steps lead out into the courtyard. It is so quiet that the sound of my feet upon the grass is painful to my ears. I stop, and look up at the sky, that empty black nothing, and I see the edges of the horizon becoming a dull white. I cannot understand what I am looking at._

_And then the sky blinks._

_And I awake.”_

Martin waited for Jon to react, allowed him some time to read the next paragraph as well, and noticed that his firm grip on the page caused a small crease where his thumb was. Martin gently reached out to take the page back, and Jon let it go without resistance.

“Is it like that?” Martin asked, slightly concerned. Jon looked frightened, and all he wanted to do at that moment was make him stand and hold him close, tell him that even if the end is like that, they were going to figure out how to stop it. Jon looked up at him and nodded, ever so slightly.

“It rather is like that, among… other things.” He said, and Martin tried to reconcile the mixture of triumph and apprehension that the confirmation stired in him.

“I don’t think I’d like that.” He says idly, trying to imagine an enormous eye looking down at him from the sky.

“You don’t,” Jon muttered, and Martin tilted his head. The way he said that was very sure.

“ _Do_ I see it? In your future?” Martin asked, aware of the familiar far-away look in Jon’s eyes. “You never mentioned how I die, but you’ve told Tim and Sasha their fates, for the most part.”

“That’s because you don’t die,” Jon said easily. He then froze, as if he had misspoken. Martin blinked.

“I don’t?” He repeated, rather pleased. _Very pleased_ , who would want to hear that they had some terrible fate? “I make it all the way to the end of the world?” He asked, trying to imagine actually putting up with constantly being watched. Were the sky-eyes harmful, or were they just general nuisances? It couldn’t exactly be fun to live in a wasteland, but what else would really change? He tried to remember everything Jon had mentioned about the end, even vaguely, but it didn’t make any sense. Jon had said that he was the only one who made it to the end apart from… Wait.

“I think I ought to get back to this,” Jon said suddenly, interrupting Martin’s idle thought. Jon looked like he was shriveling up in his chair, avoiding looking at Martin. He huffed a breath.

“Talk to me. You have to know you can trust me by now.” He said, and Jon looked so small. He was looking at his desk with wide eyes, and all Martin wanted to do was scoop him up in his arms like he had when he was drunk. “I’m here for you.” Damn. He needed to cover that up before he got too sappy. “We all are, Tim, Sasha, and I. I know you talk to Sasha sometimes.” Perfect.

“Sometimes.” Jon agreed, not seeming put-off by Martin’s near slip-up in the slightest.

“Right, well, I can’t force you to talk, but I do think it could help. You said that talking about it made it easier.”

“It does, but I can’t,” Jon said, looking stricken.

“Can’t what?” Martin pressed, and Jon seemed reluctant to elaborate.

“I can’t talk to you.” He said quickly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just…”

“You do trust me?” Martin clarified, trying to focus on the good.

“Of course, I do, Martin. I have no reason not to.” Jon said, his posture and expression softening.

“Right,” Martin said, folding his arms to give his fidgeting hands a place to go. “Right. Okay. I – uh, well, what exactly are you saying, then?”

“I’m saying…” He sighed, seeming to finally come to a conclusion. “I’m saying I can’t talk to you about everything I’m thinking, because it might be dangerous.” Martin rolled his eyes.

“It’s dangerous for me to know things? That’s something you’ve seen?” He asked incredulously. How could learning hurt him? Was he some kind of genius mastermind in the apocalyptic future?

“No, not you learning things in general, but… I think it’s dangerous for us to get too… too close.” Martin’s mouth went dry.

“Oh.” Did he know? Did Jon already know how Martin felt? Know about the crush he had been innocently harboring, not acting on, but not letting die? Is that why he was so uncomfortable right now?

“Yes, so –” Jon started, his voice gaining some volume, but Martin didn’t let him finish his thought.

“Close how?” He asked, his mind hazy with panicked thoughts.

“Excuse me?” Jon stammered. Martin stopped for a moment, trying to summon up as much courage as he could. Jon didn’t seem like he was enjoying this conversation any more than he was, though it was likely for different reasons.

“Close in what way?” He pressed.

“I – uh, in any way, I think. I don’t know. Does it matter?” He asked, his eyes darting around to avoid looking at him. Martin felt a stutter in his chest. Jon was defiantly blushing. Martin narrowed his eyes.

“So, it’s better for us to be distant?” He asked, waiting to see Jon’s response. It was immediate, Jon looking back up at him in earnest.

“No! No, I’m not saying that.” He said, and Martin could tell he struggled to keep his tone even. That was certainly an unexpected development.

“So, you haven’t been trying to push me away?” He asked quietly, not quite caring if Jon heard him or not. He did, though, and the look on his face made Martin regret saying it aloud.

“It’s… complicated.” He said, and the fear in his eyes made Martin feel warm. How dare he act so sad and innocent and victimized when he knew everything and Martin knew next to nothing? And how could he be both refusing to talk to him and ignore him? He was an infuriating contradiction.

“You can’t talk to me because we might get too close like at the end of the world, but you can’t leave me alone either because it might lead to the end of the world? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?” He asked, quickly becoming irritated. “There mustn’t be anything about lying to me or pissing me off in your visions, I guess?” He asked bitterly. Jon’s face was switching between angry and sad at lighting speeds.

“I am trying to keep everyone safe, including you, by piecing together assumptions I can glean from memories of an alternate timeline. There is very little reasonable knowledge for me to work off of here, so I am doing my best.” He said, and Martin was worried that he might have been too harsh, Jon’s voice breaking off at the end. “I just want to keep everyone safe, but I can’t. I don’t think I can do it.” Martin moved closer instinctively, wishing he could sit at Jon’s level. He quickly decided that getting Jon to look him in the eyes was more important than the knees of his trousers, so he quickly knelt down next to Jon’s chair.

“Jon, it’s not healthy to keep it all in. You shouldn’t have to deal with it on your own.” He reasoned, but Jon was still sitting tensely. “Besides, you promised that you’d tell us anything you saw about us. We have a right to know about the horrible things that could happen.” He finished, steeling himself for whatever fate Jon had seen of his. In all likelihood, it was a past threat, but if Jon was this nervous about it, perhaps it was something more mundane or unavoidable. At least it wouldn’t be life-threatening.

“You – you’re right. You deserve to know about things that concern you.” He said, and Martin leaned back on his heels, giving his knees a rest. The hard floor was certainly not comfortable. Jon was still curled up in his chair, looking significantly smaller than usual. He ran a hand through his hair a couple of times as he spoke.

“For the most part, when nothing else makes sense, I have been trying to avoid recreating the situation at the very end of my vision, the hellscape I told you about, the one this statement reminds me of.” He started, and Martin wondered how long of a story this was going to be. “Anything that is established there has got to be a sign of the end, or is likely twisted up in it somehow, so I’ve been trying to sabotage all situations that mirror it.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Martin said, still rather angry, but now apprehensive as well.

“Well. I mentioned before that I’m not the only person in that place.” He said, his tone finally evening out. Martin nodded, finally putting the pieces together.

“It’s me?” He asked softly, his mouth going dry. Jon was looking at him with an infuriatingly unreadable expression. 

“It’s you.” He nearly whispered it in return, and Martin blinked once, just to break the eye contact for a moment. He was Jon’s ‘companion’ in that future? The one who he said grounded him, kept him sane, protected him from himself? The one he said he _loved_? Martin swallowed, and his throat felt tight.

“Oh.” He said, and it was more of a breath than a word.

“Right.” Jon sat back in his chair, and Martin realized how strange it was for him to be kneeling, but he couldn’t decide whether he would rather be sitting or standing. He and Jon versus the world, in one version of the future… but not this one. In this one, Jon was doing everything he possibly could to avoid that outcome, which was still years in the future. Jon probably couldn’t even conceive of returning his feelings at this point. Martin steeled himself, standing quickly before he lost his ability to move.

“So… ah… are you…” Jon was attempting to ask something, likely if Martin was alright. It was one thing to be rejected, and another to be told that the object of one’s affection was doing everything in their power to keep from being with you.

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t. He placed the statement back on Jon’s desk before taking a step back to leave.

“Wait, Martin, where are you going?”

“Home. You probably should too.” He said, turning around and leaving Jon’s protests behind him. He needed space. Fresh air. To leave Jon alone, as he wished to be. He contemplated grabbing some statements to take home with him, but he doubted he would be able to give them the attention they required. Instead, he grabbed his jacket which held his keys and wallet and headed for the door, nothing but the echoes of his footsteps following him out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The snippet of Robert Smirke's statement is from ep 138 - The Architecture of Fear


	26. Revelation - Jon

The alarm had been going off for at least a minute. The droning beeps were oh-so annoying, but Jon couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. It hadn’t woken him, the sudden noise. He had been awake for hours. Tossing and turning all night, replaying his conversation with Martin over and over in his head. The man either hated the idea of them together more than was reasonable, or he had incorrectly assumed that Jon did. He hadn’t expected him to take it as badly he had, to misunderstand him so completely, but that was the kicker, wasn’t it? He thought he could see the future, but he couldn’t really. He just had a heads up about a few things and was so busy trying to stop the bad that he was destroying the good as well. Groaning, he finally sat up and threw an arm over to grope around for the alarm clock, frantically searching for the snooze button. He didn’t think he had ever used it before.

With a relieved sigh at the ceasing of the dreadful sound, he picked his phone off from the nightstand and unplugged it, noticing a number of notifications. He became alert at that, sitting up quickly. No response from Martin, unfortunately. He deflated, leaning back against the pillows, but there were two from Sasha and three from… Georgie? He swiped to read them immediately. They kept infrequent contact with each other and were well past their previous animosity, but it was unexpected. They only really reached out around birthdays, holidays, and on the rare occasion that there was an event going on that the other was big on.

_Hey Head Archivist! Melanie mentioned a Jon at the MI but I didn’t know it was you!_

_She has some pretty interesting stories about that place haha_

_How are you?_

Oh, no. Melanie had told her… what exactly? He needed to think about his response.

From Sasha:

_Not sure what to tell you on the Martin front. Just keep trying to reach out to him I guess. He’ll probably be mad till he’s ready to talk and then he’ll want to talk A LOT_

_At least Tim’s happy now_

He sighed and put his phone back on the nightstand. She was right, and there was no need to look back at all the messages Martin was ignoring and the calls he hadn’t returned; it was a rather embarrassingly large number for it having only been one night. But it would be fine. He would see him at work, and he would get a chance to explain himself. Except he wasn’t really supposed to explain himself since Sasha didn’t want him telling the others about his visions anymore. He had already done enough damage explaining the future, he just needed to focus on the present, and presently he was feeling pretty shitty. It took all of his focus and determination to throw himself into his morning routine and not forget his bagel in the toaster.

He had lived a lot of his life without being in a relationship or even having a crush; he could continue to operate as if this complicated feeling wasn’t nagging at him, right? Wrong. The annoying thing about feelings was how they wormed their way in with little warning and then stuck around like a curse, slanting all of his thoughts towards things like ‘what would Martin think about this,’ ‘what would Martin do there,’ ‘what would Martin’s hands feel like –’ but now they were tinged with the knowledge that he was angry with him rather than the hope that he felt the same way. Jon splashed some water on his face and made a frustrated sound. Work was going to be fun today.

Work was not fun that day, though it wasn’t downright miserable. Tim was in a better mood, as Sasha had said, and they were discussing ways to safely get explosives to end the Unknowing, as Jon had previously mentioned that was the way in which Tim died. Jon kicked himself after piping up about Gertrude having an old stash of them somewhere when they immediately began looking into where that could be. Martin was there as well, and unlike the days before where he had been absorbed in his own statements that Jon had given him, he was now helping the others with their investigation into the Stranger. Jon had been half expecting him to stay home that day, but of course not. They were adults. They could handle being in the same building together, occasionally the same room. Since Martin was busy with the others, he didn’t exactly have a chance to pull him aside and explain himself. He sort of tried, or at least thought about it, hovering around the three of them silently.

“Do you want to join us?” Sasha asked, noticing his nervous energy as he peered over Tim’s shoulder.

“What? No, no, that’s alright. I suppose I should be getting back to my own work.” He mumbled, slowly dragging himself towards his office and away from Martin. He had nearly closed the door when he heard the main doors to the archive open. He turned to see Basira and a tall blonde enter together, Basira slightly in front. They were headed straight toward Jon, though the blonde was eyeing the assistants sharply. They had fallen silent when they made their entrance, and Sasha attempted to wave at them.

“Basira, Daisy, lovely to see you again.” She said cheerily if perhaps a bit forced. _Daisy_. That was her name. Jon knew her… or would know her. The timeline was already many shades of screwed up, and they hadn’t met when his visions told them they would. A new first encounter, then. He certainly wasn’t any less nervous than the first time they had met, though having Basira around was always a nice buffer when Daisy was more… homicidal. That might not be the case that time, it seemed, as Basira did not look any happier than her companion. She nodded at Sasha before continuing towards Jon, who moved to hold the door to his office open for them.

“I’m surprised to see you two here. I thought you said you weren’t bringing any more tapes. Not that I’m upset to see you, I just don’t need them as much as I did before –”

“I’m not here about the stupid tapes, Jon. I want to know how you knew about that kidnapping and… and the People’s Church of the Divine Host.” She said, urging him into his office first. He complied and sat at his desk as Daisy closed the door behind them.

“Yes, well, I did do a poor job of explaining it last time, I suppose. I’m assuming it already happened, though?” He asked, and Basira nodded. She dragged a chair over from the back table and placed it on the other side of Jon’s desk. Daisy remained standing.

“If you want a chair, Daisy, there’s another by the table you can have –”

“I’m standing.” She said, and Jon knew to give up. Pieces of her were coming back to him very slowly as she stood in the room, mostly bad things, her holding a knife to his neck, threatening him and the others… but he could feel something else past that, calmer memories buried deep in his subconscious.

“I want a proper explanation, Jon,” Basira said, bringing his attention back to her. He shrugged.

“There isn’t one. I knew it would happen and so I warned you about what I could. The flashlights, the basement… did you get him out in time? Callum?” Daisy sucked in a breath, and Basira sat back in her chair.

“I brought a team down to the basement sooner than I would have, after mulling over your series of events, but I think we were still a bit too late. I mean, we got the kid out fine. He seemed a bit shaken, but he was already improving by the time we left. We had to kill a couple of the cultist freaks though, and we lost one of our own.” Jon nodded.

“Leo Altman.” He said. The women’s reactions confirmed his assumption. Daisy bristled, taking a step forward.

“How did you know that?” She practically growled, and Jon looked up at her with alarm.

“Because he died last time, too. Or he would, or did, ah. Sorry. I just knew it would happen.”

“Oh, you just _knew_ , hm?” She asked, putting both her hands on his desk and leaning over it. Despite himself, Jon found he was pressed back against his chair, leaning away from the imposing woman. She searched his face wildly, _looking for signs of weakness_ , his brain supplied, and he mused that she was likely to find many. Some form of recognition sparked across her features as her eyes bored into him, though, and she seemed disgusted.

“What are you?” She asked, and Jon was intrigued as much as frightened. He knew this place, the institute, was likely to change him, he knew he would become monstrous eventually, but he had hoped that he could slow it down by disobeying Elias and avoiding the events that led to the future. He desperately wanted to stay human, but if Daisy could sense something in him, maybe it was already too late. It probably had been from the moment he stepped into the institute.

“My name is Jonathan Sims, since we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, and I am merely the begrudging archivist here. I was trying to help you both.” He said, and Basira nodded. Daisy did not seem convinced.

“How do you know so much? Know things before they happen?” She asked, still leaning over his desk. Jon sighed. He really couldn’t afford to bring more people into this right now, even if they were involved before – or later.

“Did Basira not tell you?” He asked, eyeing the woman behind her. She was watching him with a look of contemplation.

“She told me you said you had visions. I assumed you were strange but harmless until they started coming true. Then I told her I was coming along the next time she decided to visit. Wanted to see you for myself.” Jon nodded, and something that felt important was nagging at him. He couldn’t tell if it was a piece of a vision or something else, but he felt the need to ask.

“Did you want to make a statement?” He asked, and Daisy narrowed her eyes.

“How do you mean?”

“There’s something you were going to tell me. About how you became involved with Section 31.” She froze, and Jon knew that he had definitely said the wrong thing.

“Excuse me?” She said, and his mind trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“I, uh, it was just – last time, or, you wanted to tell me about – ah, well we talked about the coffin, and vampires, and, uh –” Her eyes became wide, and Jon cursed himself for continuing to speak.

“Vampires?” Basira asked, looking at him as if he were crazy. He shook his head. Daisy had straightened up and looked as if she were about to attack him.

“Shut up.” She said, barely above a whisper, her soft voice edged harshly.

“Jon, what are you trying to say?” Basira continued, seeming interested. One look at Daisy told him that if he wanted to keep breathing, he should end the conversation.

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I – I don’t think I can help you. Either of you.” He said, and Daisy nodded.

“I disagree. There’s more you’re not telling us.” Basira protested, but Daisy backed up and stood by the door, obviously ready to leave.

“You said you were done giving me tapes, and I respect that, Basira, but I don’t think there’s any other reason for you to be here right now. You should leave.” Basira furrowed her brows, staying firmly in her seat, though Daisy huffed impatiently.

“C’mon, Basira.” She said, and Jon dared to look over at her again. _The coffin_. _The coffin. The coffin_. It was repeating in his mind like a drumbeat. Basira made a sound of resignation and stood, glaring at Jon.

“I’m not done with you yet.” She said, and she moved to join Daisy, who looked anxious to leave, eyeing Jon as if he were dangerous. She was likely afraid of what Jon would reveal. She didn’t want Basira to know about her more violent duties on the force.

“You should be since you aren’t police anymore. There’s no place for you here.” He said firmly, attempting to sever her connection to the institute before she had any ideas of returning. To his disappointment, she turned to look at him in shock.

“I hadn’t told you I was leaving the force yet.” She said, and Daisy growled, looking angrier by the second. Jon decided it would be best to just stay quiet from then on. He was much too likely to misspeak.

“Let’s go.” Dasiy grabbed Basira’s arm and opened the door violently. Basira continued to look at Jon, and he knew her stubborn curiosity was already piqued. Daisy seemed to nearly shake with the effort of keeping still.

“Please,” She said, her voice strangely soft, and Jon was startled to see Basira’s immediate reaction to her word, turning and placing her hand over Daisy’s where it rested on her arm. Jon watched with no small amount of fear as they left hand in hand, hoping that would be the last time he would have to deal with them. It wasn’t as if he hated them, though he could admit he was afraid of Dasiy, but he knew their lives would only be worse if they stayed around him, around the institute. If Basira left the police for a normal life, she could be happy, maybe keep Daisy calm if the Hunt hadn’t already fully claimed her. It would be too bad if she was too far gone since their separation from the institute likely meant that they wouldn’t involve themselves in stopping the Stranger’s ritual, and Daisy wouldn’t be trapped in the coffin.

Jon stopped for a moment as he realized his thoughts kept coming back to that one artefact. It was a dangerous object, a portal to the Buried, and he very much hoped that he would not have to rescue anyone from it this time around. The stilted memories he could dredge up about it made him feel claustrophobic, the sensation of dirt in his face, the inability to move, the pressing weight and dread and knowledge that he would not be able to escape… and he knew he was not in there for nearly as long as Daisy was, in one timeline. Months caught in there, without food or water, kept alive through fear alone – _alive_. She had been trapped, threat removed, her connection to the Hunt subdued… Jon stood up, suddenly wildly excited. Where was it? Who had the coffin? _The delivery men_. Breekon and Hope. And they were agents of the Stranger, or at least they worked with them. This was perfect. More than perfect. He needed to talk to Sasha immediately.

He jumped up and ran to the door, watching Basira and Daisy as they exchanged pleasantries with Sasha before heading out. As soon as they were gone, he slid right back up to where the three assistants were huddled around Tim’s desk. Tim looked up at him in amusement as he neared.

“You really can’t stay away today, huh Jon? You feeling left out? Obsessed with my nifty plans?” Jon barely registered his light teasing as he approached Sasha.

“Hmm, yes, well I need to borrow Sasha if you and Martin can spare her for a moment.” He said, noting how heavy Martin’s name felt in his mouth and how they momentarily locked eyes when he said it. Martin quickly looked back down at the desk, watching nothing, and Tim shrugged.

“I suppose. But don’t be too long with her. She’s the brains of this operation.” He said. “Martin is the heart, and I am the face, obviously. We’re all collectively the muscle.” He mused, and Jon jerked his head towards the door, trying to get Sasha to move before Tim’s strange commentary continued. Thankfully, she got the hint with a small smile and stood, patting Tim’s head as she passed him.

“Don’t miss me too much, boys.” She said, and Tim called “I won’t!” quite cheerily after her. Jon dashed back into his office quickly, and Sasha called “Liar!” back to Tim as she closed Jon’s door, a bit of laughter lingering as she took the chair Basira had just been occupying.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked, eyeing him without worry. She seemed quite calm and content, Jon noticed, and the dark bags under her eyes were all but gone. She was seeming to do a lot better than he was, though he was currently energized by his new revelation.

“Are we secure here? For me to discuss a plan?” He asked conspiratorially, and she straightened up, one hand slipping into her pocket as it often did.

“Well, theoretically we should be. I mean, as a rule, I assume that anything that happens in the institute is seen, but from what we know, he shouldn’t be able to know what we’re saying in here.” She said thoughtfully, and that was good enough for Jon.

“Right. Well, I know how we’re going to stop Elias, but I’m going to need your help figuring out the logistics.” He started, and Sasha’s face lit up.

“Excellent.”


	27. Reconnaissance - Tim

The sky was dark, the first rays of light just beginning to peek out over the horizon. The windows in the building were dark as well, and Tim strained his eyes to see any movement around the doors or from within. He picked up his binoculars and pointed them at each of the windows of the wax museum, waiting to see a sign of life. He had already been there for hours and hadn’t seen anything, waiting in his car far enough down the street that no one would immediately spot him if they arrived on the scene. He sighed quietly, looking at Sasha’s sleeping form beside him. She didn’t snore, and her breaths were slow and even. She had been quite disturbed by his insistence to go to the museum and had insisted on coming along as well, as she had promised Jon that she would keep Tim from dying as he had in his visions. He knew the two of them had valid concerns, but he also knew they wouldn’t be able to figure out what the Stranger’s pawns were doing if they didn’t get a feel for their base of operations. It wasn’t as if he was planning on charging in at that moment, either. He just wanted to scope it out.

There was nothing strange going on that morning, though, and Tim was starting to feel the fact that he had been up all night. He decided it would be best to wake Sasha before he fell asleep so that she could keep watch. He kept his gaze on the building and the surrounding street, wary of any lurking figures that he might have missed as he placed a hand on Sasha’s arm.

“Up and at ‘em, Sash.” He murmured, not wanting to speak up even though he logically knew no one from within that building would be able to hear him from his car. She stirred slightly, and he shook her arm a bit.

“C’mon. It’s your turn.” He said, daring to pull his eyes away to make sure she woke. She blinked a couple of times, an adorably grumpy expression on her face, eyes bleary and half-closed.

“This is your stake-out, I’m just moral support.” She muttered, and he chuckled a bit.

“Well, right now your support is required as I take a nap.” He replied, wondering how effective any attempts to sleep would be as he eyed the alley near his car. A person could easily hide in an alley of that size. Sasha sighed dramatically and shifted in her seat until she sat straight up.

“See anything yet?” She asked, and Tim shook his head.

“Not really. We might’ve struck out.” He said, and she groaned in response.

“So, you’re saying this whole trip was pointless? We drove hours for nothing?” Tim shushed her as her voice gained volume.

“No, it’s good to know the area. Now we know where all the entrances and exits are, and we know the size of the building. That is very useful information.” He said, and Sasha shook her head slightly.

“Whatever. Switch seats with me, I’m going to drive us back.” She said, and Tim reached out instinctively to stop her from opening the door.

“No, no, give it a bit more. It’s not even 7 yet. I can stay up if you don’t want to.” He said, and she relented. He let go of her hand reluctantly and sat back in his seat, lifting his binoculars again.

“You love those things, don’t you?” She asked, amusement clear in her voice. He hummed a note of agreement.

“I’m a super sleuth.” He replied, and his senses went on high alert as he heard a vehicle coming down the street, but it was just a small car, and it passed by without slowing. He let out a breath and continued to watch the building.

“No white vans while I was sleeping, or clowns with knives, or big ghost fish in the alley?” Sasha asked, and Tim lowered the binoculars.

“You’re not taking this very seriously.” He complained, trying not to take it personally. She noticed his expression and dropped the smile.

“Sorry. I’m just tired. And I think it’s too soon to find anything. The ritual might be a bit farther out than we were assuming.” She mused, and he had to agree that she was probably right.

As he was looking at her, he noticed movement in the alleyway through her window and froze. He brought up the binoculars, but they were too zoomed to be helpful.

“What are you doing?” Sasha asked, laughing, and she waved her hand in front of his lens. He dropped them, dodging her hand as she waved it around.

“Cut it out.” He hissed, trying to get a better look. It had been fast, a pale shape that he swore looked like a person. Sasha finally turned to look as well. After a moment, a small shape darted out. Tim jumped but noticed too late that it was just a grey cat. Sasha turned back to look at him.

“Alright. That’s enough. Let’s go home.” She said, and he groaned as he leaned back in the seat, finally closing his eyes. He was _exhausted_.

When he opened them, he saw a man standing in the middle of the street, staring at them. He was plainly dressed with close-cropped hair, and he was far enough away that Tim couldn’t make out his expression. If Tim had been paying attention, he assumed he might have been able to see him exit one of the nearby houses, or even the wax museum, as there were no other cars around.

He startled again as he heard a light impact against the car and Sasha yelped. When he looked over he saw a woman on the sidewalk pressed up against Sasha’s window, her hands resting on the glass.

“What the –” Sasha started, and the woman made an old-fashioned motion for rolling down the window. Tim and Sasha both shook their heads no. The woman rolled her eyes and spoke through the glass, getting her face closer to the window.

“Are you having fun yet?” The woman asked, her voice slightly muffled by the glass but not unintelligible. Sasha gasped and hit Tim’s arm.

“That’s Sarah Baldwin.” She said, and Tim recognized the name, though he hadn’t seen her face.

“Do we talk to her or leave?” He hissed, not knowing as much about her since Sasha had done more research than him on the cases involving her. His instinct was to lash out, and he felt for the knife he had brought along. He’d have to lean over Sasha to do any damage, and he wasn’t stupid enough to try to leave the vehicle to attack her, especially with the man in the street ahead of them, who was likely also part of the Stranger.

“I don’t know. Get the keys ready.” She said frantically, and he moved to do just that.

“What were you expecting to find here if not me?” The woman asked, and Tim dared to glance at her, his heart pounding. She was an avatar, not a victim. He knew it. She hadn’t been in the museum, though, which meant she had likely been watching them the whole time from the alleyway.

“Why are you here?” Sasha asked her, and she smirked.

“A little bird told me you two might be snooping around, and would you look at that, he was right. What a clever bird.” She said, and her fingertips began to press menacingly into the window, ten small points of contact against the glass. He didn’t have to think of who had tipped her off. Elias. He knew the information he had supplied wouldn’t be free.

“Damn it!” Tim exclaimed, smacking the wheel of the car. Sasha looked at him in alarm before turning her attention back to Sarah.

“While we have you here, would you be interested in making a deal?” She asked, and Tim turned to look at her in confusion. What could she possibly be hoping to accomplish? Was it a bluff to give Tim time to get them out of there? He had the keys in his hand, ready to go at a moment’s notice. He wouldn’t hesitate to run the man ahead over. He wasn’t even a man, just a pawn of the Stranger.

“What could you possibly have that has any leverage with us?” She asked, no amusement in her voice. Tim was wondering this as well, but Sasha hadn’t let go of his arm and she squeezed it once, likely a sign of some sort, though he didn’t remember coming up with any sort of system of communication.

“We know how to stop your ritual.” She said, and Tim’s eyes widened. He looked back at the figure in the street to see that he had gotten closer. Not menacingly so, but definitely closer.

“Oh really? And how’s that going to go?” Sarah asked.

“Get to the point, Sash, I think we’re running out of time,” Tim said under his breath, hoping Sarah wouldn’t be able to make out his words as he stared down the figure in front of them.

“I would like to make a fair trade with you. We will not attempt to disrupt or stop your ritual as our predecessor had been planning on doing if you agree to let us borrow the coffin.” Tim looked at her in befuddlement before seeing his expression mirrored on Sarah’s face. Sasha was the only one who seemed unfazed with her ludicrous proposal. 

“The Pit is not under our domain.”

“No, but the two who have it right now are, and I bet they’d be keen on making another delivery.” She said, and Tim wished he knew what was going on so he could help. As it was, he was getting nervous as the looming figure neared them. Nothing good could happen when he got to the window. He looked much less likely to chat than Sarah was.

“You can’t keep it forever,” Sarah said, slowly, and Tim realized that she was actually considering Sasha’s offer. What in the world kind of good was the cursed coffin, and why was it more important than ending the stranger’s ritual? It had to be a bluff. Fool them into giving them another artefact and then destroy them while they thought they were safe. It could work.

“We’ll only need it for a day. Two, max.”

“Why should I believe you? Not that you could stop us, even if you wanted to, but what proof do you have that you won’t interfere with our plans?” Sarah asked, and Tim found himself holding his breath waiting for Sasha’s response.

“We know that your ritual is particularly susceptible to physical attacks once it begins, and we happen to have a large amount of explosives in our possession. We would be willing to donate them to a neutral party or otherwise dispose of them as a sign of goodwill, as long as we get the coffin for those two days.” Tim was getting nervous. This was a rather daunting proposition, and even if it wasn’t true, it was well thought out. It certainly wasn’t improvised.

“Now _that_ is interesting. I’ll have to think it over, of course, but let’s just say we’ll be in touch.” Sarah said, and Tim groaned internally, hoping they hadn’t just attracted the direct attention of the entity he most despised.

Sasha smiled, and Tim felt his heart drop. That was not the smile he knew and loved. It disappeared as Sarah spoke again, though.

“We have to shake on it, though.” She intoned, pressing her face closer to the window, her nose barely a hair away from the glass. They should have been able to see her breath fogging up the window, but as it was, there was no other evidence of her presence than just the sight of her there and the sound of her voice.

Sasha winced at her words and began to decline. Sarah’s smile grew as hers faltered, and she dropped her hands from the window.

“Oh, come now, what’s the worst that could happen?” Sasha squeezed Tim’s arm twice, and he put the keys in the ignition. He felt his heart drop when he noticed that the figure in the road was nowhere in sight, and again when he heard an impact against his window. The man was standing there and had hit the glass so hard he saw a thin crack snaking up. He started the car, and Sarah raised her voice to be heard over the engine.

“Don’t be like that! We can’t let you leave without a scratch! Have you ever thought about donating skin? Both of yours look _lovely_.”

Tim wasted no time in shifting into drive and taking off as quickly as his car would go after that, the engine loud at the sudden demand on it. Sasha whirled around in her seat to look back at the figures they had left, and Tim checked his rearview as well, noting how still they seemed, like mannequins abandoned in the middle of the road. He shuddered slightly before looking back at the road. He drove for at least twenty more minutes on pure adrenaline before Sasha convinced him to have them switch. Relieved of his duty, he finally felt comfortable asking what the hell that had been about.

“What d’you mean?” She asked, sliding into the driver’s seat as Tim watched her with his arms crossed.

“Were you serious about all that?” He asked, and she shrugged, adjusting the mirrors and seat.

“I was getting us out of there, and it worked, thanks to your speedy driving backing me up.” She said, and he noticed her attempt to divert the conversation.

“Why do we want the coffin? And why didn’t you tell me about it before?” He asked, feeling a mixture of anger, betrayal, and confusion bubbling within him.

“It wasn’t the priority. Keeping you safe was, and once we were surrounded it seemed like a useful distraction. Besides, if they buy it, would you rather it was us keeping watch over a portal to the buried or the entity of lies?”

“I would rather _you_ not lie.” He said sullenly. “We used to tell each other everything.” Sasha scoffed and he snapped his eyes up to her. “What? You think I haven’t noticed us growing apart? We haven’t spent time outside of work together in like, a month.”

“We’re not kids, Tim. We have separate lives. It’s healthy.”

“You’re acting like I’m complaining about having different hobbies or something. I’m talking about us going to investigate an entity of deception that I have personal beef with, and you coming with me after avoiding me solely to enact your secret plans.”

“I already said that it wasn’t my main intent, and there is so need to yell. I can hear you perfectly fine.”

“Right. Sorry.” He looked out the window for a moment, watching the buildings pass in a blur.

“Look, I’m sorry I made you upset, but I’m not working against you. I’m with you, always, I just had an idea and I went with it. And I’ve been busy recently, with all the revelations around the archives. I know you've been as well. Besides, you still haven’t told us where you got all those files from.” She said, and he nodded, trying to convince himself that she was right. It was Sasha, he had no reason not to trust her. Her quick thinking _had_ gotten them out of there unscathed. He had no reason to be angry at the moment. It wasn’t as if the crack in his window was her fault.

“I got them from Elias.” He admitted. If he wanted her to come clean, he had to as well. She sighed, long and heavy. A bit dramatic. She reminded him of his mother when she used to get mad. It was extremely unsettling.

“Of course, he’s meddling. I hope this was proof enough for you that we can’t trust him.” She said, and he nodded.

“Uh, yeah, he ratted us out to the fucking circus knowing full well they would try to kill us. I guess your weird plan did save us.” He conceded, and she smiled a real Sasha smile at that, putting his last uneasy thoughts to rest.

She continued driving for the rest of the journey back to London, but it took Tim another half-hour of checking behind and around them before he was able to drift off at all. It was not a restful nap, as he was plagued with strange dreams. The worst was one of Sasha that he promptly forgot upon waking. He found her in a dark room, facing away from him, and sat in a wheeled desk chair. As he approached he heard a wretched static. He couldn’t speak, so he grabbed her lightly by the shoulder, and spun her around to reveal blood-stained tear tracks covering her cheeks. Worried, he knelt down in front of her and touched her face. As he did so, her eyes snapped open and found him, bathing him in their eerie green glow as he silently screamed.


	28. Cinnamon - Sasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter, I've been swamped with work recently. I'm very close to the end of this story now and I'm excited to get to the main event! I'll be writing a bit more frequently now and will be finished within the next two weeks. Thanks for reading :)

Sasha awoke to the smell of cinnamon. The warm smell of something baking was wafting in from outside her room, and she felt her stomach grumble as she slowly woke. It smelled like childhood memories and her mother coming in on her birthday to bring her breakfast in bed. It made her feel small and safe and happy in a way she hadn’t in a while. It was lovely. She finally blinked her eyes open and took in her dull bedroom, gray in the dim light. She was not a child, and it was not her birthday, but the room did still smell vaguely of cinnamon, which was a pleasant surprise. Things had not been pleasant recently. Tim was angry with her and distrustful of her, and it hurt. She felt bad for keeping things from him. Not in the grand scheme of things, for she knew it was all part of the plan, but she hated feeling like she was using him, and what that did to him. He had wanted to come over and visit before, and she had said they couldn’t come to her place for a myriad of reasons. He had obviously been suspicious, and she had learned recently from Martin that Tim had asked if he knew if she was seeing someone, which was frankly ridiculous. As if she would have a secret hookup and _not_ tell Tim. After they came back from the wax museum though, he had not bothered to ask if they could see each other. He hadn’t texted her at all, actually. It was concerning, and disappointing, but altogether good for the plan. The plan was the priority.

She wiped the sleep from her eyes as she yawned, dragging herself out of bed and stumbling into the hall. She stopped for a moment as she heard an unexpected sound coming from her kitchen. It was low and soothing, and melodious, and … _humming_. Cass was humming quietly to themself. Sasha couldn’t help a bewildered smile from pulling at her lips as she rounded the corner and looked into the kitchen. It was bright and vivid in the room she rarely used herself, and Cass was turned with their back to her, swaying in place lightly as they pulled Sasha’s oven mitts onto their hands and reached to open the oven. Sasha took in a deep breath as Cass pulled out a pan of cinnamon rolls and placed it on the stovetop. She sighed as the heat and the smell surrounded her, and it was audible enough for Cass to finally notice her. They stopped humming and turned, not quickly as if surprised, but slowly as if they had been expecting her. Maybe they had known she was there. They smiled lightly, an occurrence that Sasha had yet to become used to but had been common since she had taken them out to visit Melanie and Georgie.

“Come sit.” They said simply, gesturing to the small table in the corner that Sasha, again, rarely used. Why sit at a small table by herself when she could sit on her couch and watch TV? Although, she conceded as she followed Cass’s instruction and shuffled over, she was not actually alone now.

“You made cinnamon rolls.” She said, still not quite processing it. She was not a morning person. Cass nodded, expression back to neutral.

“I did.” They agreed, and Sasha wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the information.

“Why?” She asked, and they stilled ever so slightly in their movements.

“Because it’s something I used to do a lot.” They replied, and Sasha watched them as they got out a plate without even asking where they were. To her knowledge, Cass didn’t need to eat or sleep. So, apparently, they had been using that time to snoop around her kitchen and learn the places of all her crockery and silverware. That was extremely odd, but not nearly as strange as it could have been. Sasha supposed that it would actually have been creepier if they had truly just been sitting motionless in that one chair in her living room for hours on end.

“Why’d you stop?” She asked.

“I stopped needing to eat.” They replied, and Sasha nodded her confirmation. That was fairly obvious, but still good to have verified.

“Did you miss it? Baking?” She asked as Cass brought over a single roll on a plate and a small ceramic pitcher with what looked like some sort of glaze or icing in it. She wasn’t even sure if she owned a little pitcher like that. Where had it been hiding?

“I think I did. More than I realized.” Cass mused lightly, and they sat across from Sasha, pushing the plate toward her expectantly. She smiled, feeling a tad awkward and equally touched.

“Thank you.” She said, and she took the fork and dipped it in the glaze, letting it drip off the tines onto the roll. She wasn’t a huge fan of overly sweet food first thing in the morning, but a roll without any icing was unheard of. She took a bite tentatively, more so due to the strange sensation of being watched while she ate than any reservations about the quality or safety of the meal. She wholeheartedly believed that if Cass wanted her dead, she’d be dead by now. So very, very dead.

As soon as the first bite entered her mouth, she knew she would have to eat the entire pan. It was the most delicious thing she had eaten in she didn’t know how long. She let out a little note of happiness and immediately took a second bite. Surprisingly, it was not too sweet, though it was piping hot, and she released a little puff of air to cool her mouth down.

“How is it?” Cass asked as Sasha ungraciously fanned her hand at her open mouth.

“Hot,” She finally said, “and amazing; they taste amazing. Thank you.” She said, as sincerely as she could after swallowing very hot, very doughy and soft and fantastic rolls that her strange eldritch roommate had made for her.

“I’m glad you like them. I have wanted to do something like this for a while, but I didn’t have space for it. Or motivation.” They said, and Sasha looked back up at them as they spoke.

“I guess it does require a lot of ingredients and time…”

“And a kitchen.” They added, and Sasha nodded.

“And a kitchen. That’s certainly helpful to have.” She said, and Cass huffed in what Sasha took to be a laugh.

“Indeed. It’s not just for the sake of baking, though.” They said, with a slow, hesitant manner that Sasha hadn’t seen on them before.

“What is it, then?” She prompted, sensing they needed some prodding to continue.

“I told you that I have been trying to leave the Extinction for some time now, and hopefully the fears as a whole, eventually,” they said cautiously, “But I didn’t know exactly how. I assumed it was an internal battle to be bested through willpower and determination, but nothing was helping. I was… trapped. In my head, within my duties, even by my abilities.” Sasha froze midbite listening to Cass’s unexpected monologue.

“I could not break free from my restraints because I was not truly changing anything around them. I realized it once you invited me out to meet your friends. I had not socialized with anyone casually in… too long.” They said with a slight pause, carefully choosing to omit a date they knew well, Sasha assumed.

“It made me remember what I used to do when I was mortal, and it made me curious to see if I could still fall back into those behaviors after avoiding them for a lifetime. It turns out that I can, and I – I am glad for that.” They said it with that same small smile, and Sasha wanted to save that smile and store it away somewhere safe.

“Being human’s like riding a bike, then. You never quite forget how.” She chipped in, and Cass nodded.

“Surprisingly so.” They agreed.

“So, I take it you want to be human again?”

“More than anything.” They breathed, closing their eyes for a brief moment. Sasha quickly polished off her snack in the ensuing silence.

“I think I am going to get another roll, and I think it would be very human of you to eat one with me.” She said, and Cass looked rather dubious.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Only one way to find out!” Sasha said in her most chipper voice, and she grabbed another plate for Cass and brought them each back a roll from the stove. Cass stared at it nervously, which was strangely endearing to Sasha.

“It won’t bite. I assume. You should know, you made them.” She said, attempting to break the tension Cass so obviously had with their roll. They made no acknowledgment of her comment apart from drizzling a frankly concerning amount of icing onto it before scooping up a bite and finally trying it.

They chewed it for an uncomfortably long time, and Sasha had to hold back from asking if they forgot how to swallow in the years they hadn’t been eating, but eventually they seemed to figure it out.

“So?” She asked, already half-done her seconds.

“I can taste it.” They said with just as little emotion as Sasha was used to.

“That’s promising.” She said.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to eat it, though.” Sasha furrowed her brows.

“Well, baby steps. I think you making them was the best part, anyway. At least I get to enjoy them.” She said, and Cass nodded, granting Sasha a grateful look.

“They are for you, truly. A ‘thank you’ for letting me stay here.” Sasha squinted at them.

“If my memory serves, you told me you were staying here. There was no ‘let.’” Cass stared back at her evenly and eventually broke into a small smile.

“I suppose that is accurate. Think of them as an apology for my intrusion, then. If everything goes well, I won’t have to stay here much longer.” They said, and their face quickly returned to their usual blank look. Sasha’s stomach felt a little tight. _Right_. They were only here to help mask Sasha from Jonah’s sight and to ensure that she and Jon’s plans went well. They just wanted to make sure the apocalypse was averted, and then they would move on, and things would return to normal. That was the goal. She wasn’t supposed to have a probably hundred-year-old, non-human entity living in her flat. That wasn’t part of her normal, at least before, but it was now.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even good. It had been extremely bad, in fact, when they first appeared. Apart from getting answers to her questions, their aura of dread had caused Sasha to lose a lot of sleep and hope and energy, and it had been hard adjusting to that. But as she talked to them, and took them out of the flat, and made them feel more human, they had begun to fall into a more pleasant routine. And now, they had made her cinnamon rolls for breakfast.

She should not have had the second roll. It was too much sweetness, and she was feeling slightly queasy suddenly. Cass looked up at her for a moment, staring as they sometimes did.

“Is everything going well?” They asked, and Sasha realized she hadn’t responded to their last statement. She needed to focus. Averting the apocalypse was the most important task.

“I – uh, yes. Yeah, things are going pretty well. I heard back from Sarah; she sent me a letter and I wrote back with where to drop it off. Tim is… upset, and he knows something is going on, but I don’t think he’s going to do anything rash. Martin is as willing to help as ever, though I think he and Jon are fighting about something. They seem tense. Jon is… well, he looks tired, but he always does. He is excited about his plan, though, and he’s been trying to contact Daisy, though there’s been no luck there yet.” She rambled everything off as if on autopilot, letting her mind run through all the people involved and all the ways in which they would be included. Cass listened silently as always and nodded when Sasha finished.

“Sounds fine to me. If it goes as expected, then we will all soon be free.” Sasha paused for a moment at their words.

“Even you?” She asked, and they met her gaze calmly.

“I assume that the opposite of ending the world is saving it, and I cannot foresee what consequences my involvement will have, but I assume that doing this will either release me from the Extinction’s hold or kill me.” They said plainly. Sasha ignored the increasing tightness in her stomach that was now squeezing her chest as well.

“Well, let’s hope for the best.” She said, and Cass remained expressionless.

“Of course.” They said quietly, and Sasha took a deep breath to dispel the weight on her core.

“Well, thank you again for the rolls. I’ve got to be getting ready for work.” She said, standing and bringing their plates to the sink. “Feel free to bake or cook whenever you like. I’ll certainly eat it if it’s all as good as those rolls.” She said with a smile, and Cass stared at her.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” They said plainly. They were so very odd, but that was not new. Sasha nodded to herself and headed off to the bathroom to take a shower.

It was a chilly, overcast day, as the grey light streaming through her window had predicted, and Sasha arrived in the archives shivering. She had dressed warmly, but the cold still seemed to find its way into her bones. Tim and Martin were sat next to each other, talking quietly when she arrived, and she plopped her bag down on her chair. Tim looked up at her as she approached, and she tried to greet them with a smile. Martin returned it warmly, and Tim tried his best to approximate his usual smile, but it wasn’t the same. Fine. He could stay mad for now. She would have time to explain and ask for forgiveness later. Now was the time for focus. She reluctantly peeled off her coat and set it on the back of her chair. The archives were not well-heated, and she wondered idly if they could gather up a few boxes of statements and make a small fire to sit around. She pulled an unused chair from another desk and pulled it up to Martin’s desk, getting a look at whatever he and Tim were working on.

“Morning, Sasha.” Martin greeted.

“Morning, boys.” She said, and Tim waved at her with one hand, absentmindedly chewing on a pen he was holding in his other.

“I like your shirt. It looks cozy.” Martin commented as she sat, and she looked down at the dark turtleneck.

“Oh, thank you.” She said, knowing full well it wasn’t hers. Cass had brought only a few items with them to Sasha’s flat, including some articles of clothing, but the two of them were roughly the same size and she had been lending them a lot of hers, and washing their clothes together, and it had ended up in her dresser looking comfortable, and she had really wanted some comfort that morning, so she had thrown it on. Cass hadn’t said anything when they saw her leave, so she assumed it was fine.

“Is it new?” Tim asked, and Sasha knew he didn’t recognize it. “You don’t usually wear a lot of black.” He added, and she felt unreasonably guilty. It was fine. It was inconsequential.

“No, actually, just very old.” She said, and he looked at her strangely for a moment before turning his eyes away. Sasha felt a rush of relief. _Lies, lies, lies…_

“Is Jon in yet?” She asked, and they nodded.

“Yeah, he came in not long before you,” Martin answered, and Sasha was surprised to hear that he came in after the others.

“Oh, was he alright?”

“Seemed it. Just a bit quiet, though I’m not complaining about that.” Tim said, and she wondered if she should go talk to him.

“What are you guys working on?” She asked instead, and Tim shrugged nonchalantly.

“Just researching some artefacts that might be useful or related. There’s a weird vase that makes things disappear, though Martin thinks it seems more Spiral related than Stranger, that table that Jon says will kill and replace you, and we were just looking into the coffin from the Gillespie statement.” He said, and he was watching her intently when she dared raise her eyes to look at him.

“Well, I think Martin’s right with the vase. The table is actually web-aligned, if you remember the rest of what Jon said about it, it’s just trapping a monster. And the coffin is a gateway to the buried, so not a lot to go off from, there.” She said, meeting Tim’s gaze as innocently as possible. They hadn’t discussed a lot of their trip with the others, apart from the mostly uneventful stake-out that Sasha had been sleeping for most of. They had explained their close run-in with Sarah and the man they didn’t recognize and that they had gotten away, but neither Tim nor herself had explained any further than that, and she wasn’t planning on doing so.

“That makes sense,” Martin said uneasily, noting the tension between them. “Uh, what do we want to work on next? Any more leads to follow?” He asked hopefully, but Sasha shook her head.

“I don’t think there’s anything else at the moment. Did you find anything interesting in the Extinction statements?” Sasha asked, turning her attention to Martin. Tim did the same, thankfully.

“Uh, no, not exactly. I don’t think – I mean, it doesn’t really seem relevant right now.” He said, and Sasha sighed internally. They were all too clever to fool with misdirection. She needed something for them to do to distract them, to distract Jonah long enough for her and Jon to get everything set up. She knew Tim was already suspicious, and privately conferring with Jon right now would only make him more so.

“Well, we can certainly dig deeper into the Stranger. Has anyone done any more research on the calliope? Or why they seem so fascinated with collecting skin?” She asked, and Martin made a face.

“I call researching the calliope.” He said quickly, causing Tim to shoot him a look.

“Oh, thank you, Martin. You leave the best for me.” He said, voice dripping with sarcasm, and Martin gave him a sheepish smile.

“I guess I’ll go see what I can find.” He said as he stood, leaving Tim and Sasha on either side of his desk. “Be right back!”

“What about you, Sash?” Tim asked, and she felt comforted by his use of her nickname. “What are you up to, today?”

“I’m probably going to go check in on Jon and see if he has any more cryptic advice for us.” She said, and he nodded.

“Alright. Let me know if he says anything interesting.” They both stood, and he walked off towards the stacks of files without another word. She missed his smile and his casual contact, a hand on her arm, or a kiss on her forehead. He was a bit more distant now, and she missed him even though he was only a couple feet away. _The sooner they get this over with, the better._ The sooner things returned to normal, the better.

Jon was in his office, his head in his hands as he read something on his desk. He had murmured a quiet ‘come in’ at her knock and now she stood before his desk. He looked up at her with a small smile and pushed the paper away from him.

“I hate this.” He said simply, gesturing to said paper. It was the letter Sarah had sent, confirming that they would bring them the coffin. Sasha wasn’t sure she should show it to anyone since she had already responded to it, but Jon had wanted to see it and they weren’t keeping secrets from each other. There was no reason to.

The letter looked like a ransom note. Each word was cut from some magazine or newspaper and glued on messily. It was rather amusing to Sasha, but she knew Jon found it deeply unsettling. Jon sighed, bringing Sasha’s attention back to him.

“I finally got into contact with Daisy. The number you found was hers, though she was deeply disturbed and upset that I managed to get a hold of it.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“No. She is an incredibly frightening woman, but I think she fears how much I seem to know about her.”

“It can be off-putting, yeah.” Sasha agreed, remembering Cass’s first appearance in her flat and how they had ‘known’ that she wanted to talk to them, as well as Jon’s ‘knowledge’ that the table in artefact storage would kill her.

“Thank you.” He said dryly. “If my visions have any validity to them, she will not hesitate to kill me when she next gets the chance, though if we get past that, we might end up being friends.” He sighed deeply as if this concept was exhausting to him. “The future is so _weird_.”

“But did she agree to help?” Sasha asked, pulling his out from the space he was staring into.

“Oh, yes, however begrudgingly. I suspect she will be a bit of a wild card. We’ll want to keep a close eye on her, but she’s on board with our main goal.”

“Excellent.” She breathed, feeling relieved and excited by the news. He nodded, his hands idly tapping on his desk. She watched him for a moment and he didn’t say anything, just resting in the quiet.

“You haven’t had any… you’re not getting any other abilities, right? The ones you saw yourself getting?” She asked suddenly. It was off-topic, but she wondered. Jon’s expression darkened.

“I… I don’t think so? It’s hard to tell. I hope I’m not, but I’m finding it nearly impossible to distinguish between the truth of the present and the possibilities of the other future. As they grow apart it becomes a bit easier, and I know I’m nowhere near where I am when everything goes wrong, so that comforts me, at least.” He said, and she nodded. That was good enough for now.

“Well, hopefully, your visions will stop soon. We only have to put up with being here for a couple more days.” She said, and he nodded.

“Yes, well, I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much, as that will cause room for error, but it does seem nearly foolproof.”

“Nearly.” She repeated with a small smile.

“As for my visions… you say they’ll stop? Did… did Cass mention that?” Jon asked tentatively.

“Uh, no, not exactly. I suppose I just assumed that once the crisis was averted, that future would cease to exist, and so would any evidence of it.” She said, musing to herself as well as answering his question. Cass had been very elusive as to how it all would work out, and Sasha was more than a little concerned for them, as well as Jon.

“Interesting. I’m… I’m not sure how I feel about that.” He said.

“You want to remember?” She asked, surprised.

“Well, it’s not as if I’m likely to forget all the things I’ve seen anytime soon. Suddenly losing it all would be like some sort of void in my mind. It’s rather unpleasant to imagine.” He explained, and she had to agree that it would be unpleasant to lose an ability like that, one that he had been relying on so heavily for so long. It would be akin to losing the coin in her pocket, she assumed, the one she had been using for nearly everything. The one that had helped her come up with the method for how she and Tim escaped from Sarah. Little mental nudges in the right direction, warnings of what was coming… it was a safety blanket that she would feel naked without, but there could be no worthwhile reward without a bit of risk involved.

“I understand.” She agreed quietly, snapping herself out of her reverie to get down to business. She pulled a chair from the back table and brought it up to his desk, sitting across from him.

“Alright. We have the method, we have the place, we have the people. Let’s quickly discuss details and our timeline of events.” She said, and he sat up a bit straighter in his seat. It was nearly time to enact their plan. He seemed just as eager as she felt, and leaned a bit closer, lowering his voice.

“Right. So, it should go like this…”


	29. Flash Point - Martin

The calliope was a dead end. Martin had suspected it when Sasha brought it up, but he had wanted something to focus on so badly that he had gone ahead and dug up everything he could on it for the whole day, as well as other, non-haunted calliopes, because why not? He only had a couple of things to occupy his mind with at the moment, and as pathetic as he knew it was, work was the least depressing. His friends – his coworkers – were all being extremely secretive. Tim and Sasha weren’t telling him everything about their trip to the wax museum. Tim was still angry with Sasha but wasn’t saying why. Sasha was infuriatingly calm, more so than usual, even to the point of seeming aloof. Jon had moved past his constant hovering and staring and had boomeranged back to his original approach of avoiding them all quite spectacularly, save for Sasha, who he still talked to regularly.

Martin knew the last part was partially his fault. Maybe entirely his fault. He had ignored most of Jon’s attempts to reach out, and there had been many. He didn’t know exactly why he had continued disregarding his pleas for attention. Quite possibly it was his small grudge-holding side that derived vindictive pleasure from watching Jon watch him from afar as he had done for months. The majority of it, though, was that he had realized Jon’s intended message far too late. Of course, Martin had taken it as an awful rejection when Jon first explained that he was avoiding the future at all costs. Their future, specifically. Martin was used to rejection, used to being let down, and at some point, he had stopped feigning optimism and allowed bad news to hit him directly to kickstart the process of accepting and moving past it. Perhaps he was a little to eager to accept all news as bad, then. He had gone home that night in a quiet daze, the silence broken only by the near-constant buzzing of his phone until he finally shut it off. He didn’t read any of the messages until the next day, and he was surprised when he did.

_Martin._

_I think there was a misunderstanding._

_I hope I didn’t upset you._

_I can’t explain it all now, but I promise I will once this is all over._

_If you want, that is._

He did want. He wanted a lot. Little sparks of hope and guilt had hit him when he read those messages. He was of half a mind to just say it, return one of Jon’s calls and ask him what he had meant. Hell, he could just go into his office right then and there if he so desired. He could hear the lingering echo of Tim’s original ‘friendly advice’ in his mind from early in their days in the archives.

“If you want him to notice you, you have to be confident,” Tim said, startling Martin from his semi-daydreaming as an unsuspecting Jon closed his office door behind him. Brushing past Martin’s feeble protests, Tim continued. “You’ve got questionable taste in men, I will admit, but I can see a shred of appeal.” He said, not unkindly. “He definitely has a high opinion of himself, or at least pretends to, so you can’t win him over by being clever. He’s too self-absorbed or focused on work, or whatever. You know what I mean. That being said, I know he wouldn’t be a fan of overly bold gestures either, so this might be a long game. Get to know him, speak your mind, you know. Be you.” He said with his most charming smile. Martin had not asked for advice, nor said anything to reveal his highly inconsequential and totally irrelevant daydreams of maybe kissing his boss, so there was no reason any of them should have picked up on it…

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He claimed weakly.

“Oh, Marto, you can’t fool me. You’re not exactly subtle.”

Martin knew he wasn’t subtle. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, but a lot of people tended not to notice. He was normally quiet, particularly in new situations, and he hadn’t had a lot of close friends when he was younger who were as good at picking up on his signals as his coworkers were. It was strange to feel seen. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or preferred being unknown. Tim had always seemed especially tuned to him and had made it his personal quest to befriend Martin before anyone else.

He hadn’t been actively trying to pull away from him, but as Martin now watched Tim from afar, he wondered when they had stopped talking regularly. He missed the lunches the four of them used to go on, full of laughter and blissful ignorance. It was easy and fun and not at all like where they were now. They didn’t hate each other, he knew they still all cared in their own ways, but it was tense and lonely in the archives in a way it hadn’t been before. He sighed, adding to the anthology of discontent the place housed.

The day was bound to be dull, as Martin had already extinguished all resources about the stupid calliope the day before, and he was not keen on starting another useless project, so he settled for reading the book he had brought into the archives when Jon had suggested disobeying Elias at all costs. Normally, he would ask Jon if he had anything for him to do, but he wasn’t feeling up to encountering his wide eyes and the strangely soft expression he had whenever he had a moment alone with him. They could deal with that later. Jon promised he would explain. For now, he just quietly read his book. He tried to focus, but there was a lot of movement in the archives that day. Sasha was in and out of Jon’s office, Tim was antsy and pacing, and he and Sasha had a long conversation in the break room that Martin couldn’t make out, though it thankfully didn’t sound like they were yelling.

After a couple of hours, Martin heard Sasha’s voice from Jon’s office and watched her storm out in puzzlement. Had they been fighting? What about? It was nearly time to leave for the day. Tim had already gone home, and Martin thought he should be packing up as well. He closed his book and watched Sasha as she made her way to her own desk.

“Everything alright?” He asked tentatively, and she looked up at him with a falsely cheery expression.

“Fine, thanks. Just… just a little overexcited.” She sighed, and Martin puzzled at her choice of words. Excited for what, exactly? She packed up in a hurry, occasionally looking up at Jon’s office door and then at Martin, as if she expected one of the two to do _something_.

Martin’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Slightly puzzled, he took it out to look at it. It was a message from Jon.

_Can I ask a favor of you?_

He blinked. Sasha hummed a note of contentment.

“Night, Martin. Take care. I’ll see you soon.” She said in a rush, and he barely managed to respond in kind before she darted out the main doors. Martin looked down at the message on the screen and wondered why Jon hadn’t just come out from his office. Martin stood and made his way over, knocking on the door. He opened it at Jon’s muffled allowance and held his phone up as a signifier.

“What’s up?” He asked, hanging in the doorway. Jon was putting some papers back into their folders and seemed surprised to see Martin, which was strange, seeing as how he had just reached out.

“Oh, yes, come in.” He said, and Martin took the seat that Sasha had likely just left.

“What do you need?” Martin asked as Jon didn’t seem keen to offer any clues.

“I, uh, need your input on something.” He asked carefully. His voice was steady, but he avoided looking at Martin.

“And that is…?”

“Would you be willing to do something a bit dangerous?” He asked, still not meeting Martin’s gaze. Martin considered it for a moment.

“I suppose it depends on what it is?” He said, and Jon nodded to himself.

“What do you think would make Jonah angriest?” Jon asked, and Martin tried to put the pieces together.

“Is that… do you need me to make him angry? Is that what this is about?” He asked, and Jon finally finished sorting all the files on his desk. With nothing left to occupy his hands, he looked up at Martin.

“Yes, if you’re willing. I know it’s risky, and I wouldn’t want to put you in danger unless you were privy to it, but, ah, I have an idea, and it would require your assistance. I can’t fully explain it, but…”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll do it.” Martin said, and Jon looked surprised.

“I – you will?”

“You wouldn’t ask it of me if it wasn’t important.” He said, and Jon gave him the smallest, most exhausted smile.

“It is. And I will explain everything after this.” Martin nodded.

“I know. You said you would.” Jon looked at him blankly for a moment. “In your text.” He clarified, and he felt incredibly rude for ignoring said messages suddenly, now faced with Jon. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry for ignoring you. I wasn’t – it wasn’t really the best response…” He started, but Jon shook his head.

“No, no, I understand. It’s, uh. Well, it’s alright. We can talk about everything later. Uh, soon, actually. If, if you’re alright with that?” Jon asked, and Martin nodded, stopping himself from leaning in any closer than he already was.

“Yeah, that’s – that’s fine. I look forward to it.” He said, and he really hoped that hadn’t sounded as stupid to Jon as it did to him.

“Uh, anyway, you had asked um, what would make Jonah angry?” He said, attempting to move past their awkward circle-talk. Jon seemed just as eager to change topic as he was.

“Yes! I, uh, it can’t be here, I have a specific place in mind, but do you – I mean, can you think of something to… to lure him somewhere other than the institute?” Martin barely had to think about that.

“I mean, he’s like, the founder of this place, right? So, he probably cares a lot about it, and the archives are the most cursed place here, apart from maybe artefact storage, so… so if we want him to leave, we should take something from here. Like an artefact, or maybe some statements? We could take a whole box of statements and throw them somewhere. Heh, we could threaten to burn them, or use them to – to what exactly? What is the goal here?” He asked, stopping himself from rambling any longer, but Jon was looking at him with excitement.

“That makes perfect sense. Thank you, Martin, yes, the statements…” He eyed the folders on his desk for a moment before stacking them up into a pile. “I can get some especially important ones… ones that are real…” Jon muttered, and Martin furrowed his brow watching him. He looked back up at him with an energy that Martin hadn’t seen in him in a while.

“Can we do this tomorrow? Are you free tomorrow afternoon?” Martin gaped at him for a split second. He definitely hadn’t ever imagined Jon saying those words in another context, more akin to a date.

“Yeah, I’m not doing anything.” He said, and Jon nodded.

“I – thank you, Martin. This is perfect.” He said, and Martin felt warm from the praise. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on or what he was helping to do, but it was likely important, and his idea had certainly been a good one if Jon’s reaction was anything to go by.

“Of course.” He said, and Jon stood, grabbing his jacket.

“I’m done here for today, and you can obviously go home as well. Get some sleep. You don’t need to bother coming in tomorrow, I’ll text you where to go.” Jon said, and Martin stood as well.

“I – oh, okay. So, are you going to, uh, get the statements and meet me somewhere, or?” Jon seemed reluctant to answer.

“Something like that. I – I’m sorry I can’t say more. But you are on board? You trust me?” He asked earnestly, and Martin found himself nodding.

“Yeah, I trust you, Jon.” He said, and Jon smiled again delicately.

“Right. I’ll, uh, I’ll text you, then.” He said, and he gestured to the door. Martin walked briskly through and made his way to his desk, aware of Jon’s presence behind him as he locked his office door. He was part of the plan now; whatever Jon and Sasha had been conspiring about behind closed doors. He hoped Tim was involved too, he decided, as he knew how out of the loop they had both been feeling. Martin shrugged his own coat on as his mind buzzed. He just had to go home and get some sleep, and tomorrow he would be helping Jon, and after that, whatever strange event occurred, he would get answers. He’d get to talk to the others, clear the air, and he’d get to talk to Jon. Everything was going to be alright. He’d have his friends back, and things would be different. Or so he hoped.

Martin looked at the directions on his phone, switching between Jon’s texts and the GPS that guided him to the right spot. He was heading toward the middle of Epping Forest, a quiet area that he hadn’t spent enough time in, he was realizing as he began to make his way off the trail. There was a soothing aura about the place, peaceful and serene. He had passed a pond that would undoubtedly look friendlier in warmer weather. In fact, the whole area was likely to be lovely in spring, and he made up his mind to visit again under less nerve-wracking circumstances.

Jon had said Martin would know when he arrived in the right place, and he felt in his pocket for the lighter Jon had given him just before he left work the day before. It was small and black with a spider-web design on it. He wasn’t sure why Jon had kept it, as Martin didn’t think he currently smoked, but it was his nonetheless, and he turned it over in his hand as he neared the place Jon had marked for him. There was a small clearing up ahead, it seemed, and Martin made his way through without difficulty. The trees were thicker around there, but not so dense that he couldn’t make his way through. In the middle of the clearing was a box that Martin recognized, one of the file boxes they kept in the archives. He eyed the edges of the clearing but saw nothing to put him off from his task. As he approached, he saw that the grass around this clearing was patchy and sparse, and some areas looked rather blackened. He approached the box with some trepidation, noting how suspicious this whole thing seemed. If it had been anyone other than Jon who had asked him to do this, he would have assumed it was some awful set-up for him, but he knew he wasn’t the target here. He had already figured he was the bait, and he had agreed to it. Resigning himself to his fate, he texted Jon that he had arrived, and waited no more than five seconds before he got a response.

_Whenever you’re ready._

He pocketed his phone at Jon’s reply and traded it for the lighter, picking a file at random from the box. It was Jane Prentiss’s statement, and a jolt went through Martin at that. He wouldn’t mind burning this one at all. It would be fitting even, for it to burn just as she had. He wondered if Jon still had her ashes that he had gotten for him after they had gotten the OK to renter the archives. He flicked the lighter on and watched the sputtering flame. It wasn’t windy, blocked in as he was by the surrounding trees, but the flame was pointing distinctly to the left, away from the statement he held it near. Ignoring the unpleasant effect, Martin held the edge of it over the flame and watched it catch with some glee. It was just paper, after all, no matter what horrors it contained. The fire ate through the pages quickly, and Martin dropped it to the ground, watching the frost melt as it was touched by the warmth.

He grabbed another one, a statement of one Barnabas Bennett, and felt a thrill go through him as he watched the paper ignite. He looked around the clearing again, feeling rather exposed in the dead center as he was, but there was still no sign of movement. He suspected that Jon was somewhere nearby, but he had no real reason to assume so.

He grabbed three more statements and watched them burn before he began to feel a bit silly. What was supposed to be happening exactly? He knew he was supposed to be attracting Jonah’s attention by doing this, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to do once he got there. Fight him? Run? Jon hadn’t been clear on that point. He grabbed another statement, noticing how full the box was. How long was he expected to do this? Until the box ran out? He grabbed another statement, Joshua Gillespie’s. He was familiar with this one. He burned it just the same as the others and let out a bored little sigh.

“It would be a shame if I had to burn this whole box.” He said aloud, wondering if Jonah could hear him from wherever he currently was. Was he watching right now? Making his way over as quickly as he could? Or did he know it was a trap as well as Martin did, and was ignoring it as well he could? Martin looked at the growing pile of ashes near his feet and frowned at the mess he was making. This was littering. It was also likely to get dangerous for the trees if he let the fire get too big. He’d have to be careful. He dropped the next one slightly apart from the others, allowing the frosty ground to melt in another place. 

“Martin.” The voice startled him, and he looked up at the edge of the clearing.

“I – Elias?” he asked, and he looked toward the direction he had come in himself, noticing the man emerge from the trees as silently as a specter. How long had he been there, just watching?

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” He asked, and Martin couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t wearing a coat, just his usual shirt and vest, and he idly thought he must be rather cold.

“Is it not obvious?” He asked. He wished he knew what he was doing as well. He looked up and met the man’s eyes, and instantly realized it was a mistake.

“You didn’t think that I wouldn’t see what you’re doing just because you’re not in the institute, did you?” All Martin could see were Elias’s – _Jonah’s_ eyes, luminescent and off-putting and too large, encompassing his vision. Had the forest been that dark when he arrived? His skin started to prickle with anxiety at the feeling of those too-large, too-bright eyes on him, their endless gaze making his hands falter in their movements. Jonah knew what he was supposed to be doing. He knew what Jon had asked him to do; Martin could tell. Was Jon going to get hurt? Was he? He found he couldn’t speak, and Jonah smiled.

“I can see _everything_ , Martin.” He intoned, and Martin believed him. Suddenly a large shape darted out from the forest, barely registering in Martin’s periphery before those terrible eyes were knocked from his view and he was granted a brief reprieve from their scrutiny.

“Not everything.” A voice growled, coming from the woman who had apparently knocked Jonah to the ground. Martin darted his gaze over to the two on the frozen earth, recognizing the woman as the officer who had accompanied Basira to the archives. She had Jonah pinned, but he stared back at her with an obvious distaste, not seeming to feel threatened at all by her presence above him.

“You know you can’t act like this without disappointing her.” He said, and Martin wondered what in the world he was talking about, but his words seemed to have stopped Daisy in her tracks. “She thinks you’re an animal, a monster. You could be better, but you’re not. You choose not to be.” He said, his voice far too confident. Martin noticed another form coming in from the edge of the clearing and instantly recognized her.

“You’re the monster here, not her,” Basira said, but Daisy was already distracted, and Jonah managed to move out from her grasp, stumbling to his feet.

“What exactly are you planning? Do you really think you can kill me?” he asked, and Martin wondered how he was able to keep his cool with all the unexpected appearances. Maybe he had known they were there. Martin looked around for anywhere he could wait out the rest of this encounter. The two women before him certainly appeared to know more about what was going on than he did. He backed himself up against a tree and watched as Jonah was flanked by the two imposing figures. Martin felt the whisper of a breeze behind him, but not wanting to rip his eyes from the scene in front of him, he paid it no mind. It was no surprise then, when two more figures emerged from the forest behind him, carrying a rather large item between them. Jonah’s back was to them, and the two large deliverymen made no sound as they gently placed a light wooden coffin on the ground. Etched into the top were the words ‘DO NOT OPEN.’ Martin shuddered at the sight of it and its owners. Last time he had seen them, they had dropped the table off at the institute. Now they were standing on either side of this other cursed artefact, watching the scene in front of him as Martin himself was.

“I _know_ I could kill you.” Daisy snarled, and Jonah chuckled even as he backed away from her. Though there was no sound to tip him off, Jonah seemed to become aware of the threat behind him, and he twirled around to see the two large men. His eyes widened and then narrowed, accepting this turn of events as gracefully as he could.

“Are the Hunt and the Stranger on friendly terms, now? This is certainly news to me.” He said, but neither of the deliverymen responded. Martin watched Daisy and Basira’s movements as they attempted to back Jonah towards the coffin. Was this the plan then? Martin knew he was strong. He could probably help put Jonah in there, but he didn’t want to interrupt the scene that was being played out before him. He hadn’t been asked to do that.

Daisy was always tall, but she seemed to be larger than Martin remembered her being. Jonah was stepping around delicately, not revealing which way he would run, though it was evident from his tense outline that he planned to do so. Basira stood stiffly but surely, barely leaned forward in a near-crouch, and Daisy cornered the man with her arms floating ready at her sides, hands curled open as if they were claws. The two women were perfectly in sync, but Jonah stared Basira down with a sudden intensity, making her pause.

“You know you can’t control her. She’s likely to attack you next if you let her go on like this. She won’t be able to help it.” He said, and Basira frowned and froze, just for a moment, just long enough for Jonah to duck under her arm and head toward the trees. Martin took a futile step forward, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get to him in time, but he didn’t have to. As Jonah neared the tree line Tim stepped out, knocking bodily into Jonah who yelped in alarm.

“Hey, you prick.” He said with a smile, and Martin looked from him to the trees and back again. Where had he been hiding? Who else was in there, waiting to jump out? Jonah seemed to be thinking the same thing as he let out a frustrated hiss.

“Killing me won’t save you, you know. You and your friends will die as well.” He said from the ground, and Tim stared down at him with a frown.

“Then I guess we should have come up with some clever way to stop you without killing you, huh?” He said, and even from his distance away, Martin could see the fear blossoming on Jonah’s face. Daisy and Basira pounced on him before he could think to move again, each grabbing one of his arms and hauling him up. Tim raced around them with an eager expression and a smile for Martin as they neared the coffin.

“Little help?” Tim called to him over Jonah’s increasingly panicked protests. Martin felt himself jump back into the action and rounded the coffin, eyeing the two stoic men as they stood silently behind it. The man closest to Martin held out a key, the metal of which was biting cold as he gently accepted it from him. He put the key in the lock that kept the coffin shut, and the iron chains sloughed off easily, leaving only the warm wood of the coffin under his hands. He and Tim both pulled the edge of the lid up without resistance and were greeted by a rich, earthy scent. It was oddly comforting, oddly inviting…

“Don’t look into it!” A familiar voice called to them, and Martin turned to see Sasha hanging around the edge of the clearing, watching them intently. Martin didn’t have to try very hard to obey, and he stumbled away as Daisy and Basira neared the gaping maw of the coffin. 

“This won’t accomplish anything. I’ll find my way out. I know how to escape!” Jonah cried, his voice edging on desperate as he struggled to free himself from the iron grips of his captors. A scoff near Sasha made Martin perk up, and he felt a mixture of anxiety and excitement as Jon stepped out next to her.

“No, you don’t. No one has ever escaped from the Buried.” Jon said, the smile evident in his tone, and Jonah looked up at him in anger. Whatever clever retort he had planned was cut short, though, as Daisy wasted no time in hauling him over the edge of the wood, tossing him down the stone steps beyond it. A cry of panic and likely pain followed her actions, and before they could hear any more, Tim slammed the lid of the coffin down, plunging the clearing into an eerie silence. No one dared to move. Martin was the first to break the spell, sparking the rest of them back to life.

“Is everyone we know hiding in this forest?” He asked incredulously. Tim laughed and immediately moved to gather the edges of the chains on the coffin, clamping the padlock back into place and giving one of the strange men back their key.

“Nearly. I didn’t have a reason to invite Melanie and Georgie, though.” Jon said with a straight face.

“I haven’t met Georgie,” Martin responded dazedly, and Jon raised his eyebrows, taking a couple of steps closer.

“I’ll have to rectify that.” He said, and Martin laughed at the unexpectedness of the statement. Jon smiled shyly at him, and Martin felt his chest tighten. He wanted to say something else, anything else, but maybe this wasn’t the best time or place to have a heart-to-heart. Sasha lingered by the edge of the woods, looking back with minor concern, though Martin didn’t know what she was looking for.

“I hate that thing. Never thought I’d ever be near it again, let alone put someone in it.” Martin heard Daisy say from behind him. 

“He deserved it,” Basira said, resting a hand on her partner’s arm.

“I know. That’s why I agreed to do this. Now get it out of here.” Daisy said, addressing the deliverymen with a surety Martin would never dream of replicating.

“But of course.” One responded, already reaching down to pick it up.

“Our pleasure.” The other pitched in, simultaneously spurred into action.

“Tell Sarah the explosives are being dealt with, and she’ll receive her proof shortly,” Sasha said to them as they hefted the object up between them. “Thank you.” 

“We’re always willing to help.” One chimed.

“Don’t be strangers, now.” A haunting laugh followed them as they backed into the trees and disappeared from sight much faster than Martin thought they should have. What was with this forest?

“So… we did it? We stopped Jonah?” He asked, looking around at his friends and allies.

“Hell, yeah we did!” Tim responded, but Martin felt like it was more than that.

“Was that – did we stop the apocalypse?” He asked, trying to wrap his mind around everything. He could feel the enormity of what they had done more than he could comprehend it, as if an unknown weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. 

“I – yes. Yes, I think so.” Jon said, hardly seeming to believe it himself. “At least for now.”

“Finally. Thank god.” Tim said, dropping his head and rolling his shoulders back. “I’m beat.”

“Yes, well, we all deserve some rest,” Jon said, and Daisy huffed.

“I still don’t see why we didn’t put you in there as well.” She said, and Martin felt himself moving in front of Jon before he realized what he was doing, unconsciously mirroring Basira as she moved to block her from them as well.

“It’s fine. We did well today. Let’s just get home, yeah?” She said. Getting no response, she lifted one of Daisy’s closed fists up to her mouth and kissed the back of it, causing her posture to relax ever so slightly.

“Okay.” She said simply, allowing Basira to lead her away.

“Take care of yourselves,” Basira called behind her, and Jon nodded at her.

“You as well. Both of you.” He said, and Daisy shot him a look over her shoulder that Martin was surprised he didn’t flinch at.

Martin blinked as their numbers quickly dwindled, figures fading as swiftly as they had come. It was just the four of them now, as it had been at the start. An intake of breath alerted him to Sasha, and he, Jon, and Tim all made their way over to her with concern.

“Sasha?” Tim asked apprehensively, and he quickly followed her as she darted just past the trees.

“What is it?” Martin asked, but he quickly saw another figure being carried back into the clearing by the two of them. He almost didn’t recognize them at first, it had been so long, but…

“Is that the Prophet?” He asked, and Jon stepped in closer.

“Yes, but don’t worry. They’ve been helping.” He said, and Martin looked at him as if he had just announced that he could fly.

“Truly. I – believe me, I didn’t trust them at first either, but…” Martin looked back at them. They seemed to be unconscious, held up by both Sasha and Tim.

“Cass?” Sasha asked, gently lowering them onto the ground, worry coloring her voice.

“Are they okay?” Jon asked, and Sasha looked up at him helplessly.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell.” She said, one hand in her pocket and the other cradling Cass’s head delicately.

“Should we take them to the hospital, then?” Tim asked, watching with as much apprehension as Martin felt. Sasha shook her head.

“I don’t think it would help. I don’t know. I – I think we should get them back home.” She said, and Martin puzzled at that.

“Home…?” He said aloud, and Sasha made a dismissive sound.

“My flat, whatever. Tim, can you help me carry them out?” She asked, and he nodded, ducking forward to brace their arm over his shoulders. Martin looked back at Jon, who was watching solemnly.

“I’ll lead the way,” Jon said, and Martin looked over at the abandoned box of statements in the middle of the clearing, nearly forgotten after all the action. He approached it with determination, sparking the lighter to life in his hand and lowering it towards the cardboard. It took a second for it to catch properly, but once it did, he backed away feeling fulfilled. He thought he heard an angry whisper as he did so, but he told himself it was just the wind. Turning back, he had expected the others to have moved on, but he found them waiting for him at the tree line. Grateful he didn’t have to hurry to catch up, he followed them out as the small fire burned itself out behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOHOO! I had so much fun writing this chapter!


	30. Unbelievable - Jon

Jon closed the door to his office, casting one last look about the place before winding his way back through the open area where his former assistants’ desks lay bare. It was no quieter than it normally was in the archives, nor darker, but Jon could feel the absence of something in the air that used to linger there. The place felt utterly deserted and his every movement echoed. He placed his small box of personal belongings down and ghosted a hand across one of the desks. Not just any of the desks; it was Martin’s. Well, it had been Martin’s. Now it was unoccupied.

“Jon?” It was Martin’s voice. He must have seen him lurking from wherever he had been in the stacks. Jon looked up quickly. He knew he was here with him, expected to see him again, and yet he still felt that his appearance was a surprise.

“Martin,” he responded in kind, his mind blank.

“Did you pack all your stuff up?” Martin asked, eyeing the half-full box by Jon’s feet. With as much time as he had spent in the archives, he wasn’t the type to leave trinkets or photographs in his work area, and it wasn’t like he was going to be taking any statements home with him.

“Yes. And you’ve already done so yourself?” Martin nodded, eyeing his barren desk.

“Yeah, I came in with Tim earlier. We helped get Sasha’s stuff since she’s busy with Cass.” Jon nodded. They’d be heading over to check in on them after they were done there.

“Right.” He took a breath. There was so much he wanted to say, and he had to sift through the bits that were no longer relevant. It was a strange contradiction, the impossible memories of things that hadn’t ever happened, and would never happen, weighing on his mind with such permanence. The visions hadn’t disappeared as Sasha had assumed they would. Jon was only partially paranoid that it meant their plan hadn’t worked, although the freedom they had been granted from the institute helped to reassure him that it had.

“I’m all done with my bit,” Martin said, gesturing towards the stacks, and Jon nodded.

“All set on my end as well.”

“Should we get going, then?” Martin asked, already turned halfway to the door. He was eager to leave; of course, he was, Jon was as well, but he also felt like leaving would be a period at the end of this series of events, and he didn’t want to wait any longer before expressing regret for some of his actions.

“Wait,” he started, and Martin turned back towards him patiently. He was always patient with him. 

“I want to apologize, for keeping everything from you; for not talking to you. I didn’t mean to push you away or make you think that I didn’t care. I know it sounds, well, I know how it sounds, but I had to keep you in the dark because I _do_ care –” 

“It’s really okay –”

“I didn’t know what would trigger the end. I thought that being close to you, that it would –” He paused. What would it have done, to be close to him? To be kind? At some point, he had realized it wouldn’t lead to anything apocalyptic. He had worried that being vulnerable would make him want to reveal everything he knew, that being held would make it all the easier to say everything he couldn’t, but that was just an easy excuse.

“I was scared.” He admitted. “Of… of admitting my feelings, of dealing with it all during these plans… I just…”

“Oh, Jon,” Martin said softly, and Jon looked at the floor.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, either, by anything I might have said, to pretend to feel something you don’t…” He rushed, the words pouring out of him without restraint.

“I’m not. I wouldn’t.” Martin said, but Jon continued.

“And despite the fact that my actions may have suggested otherwise, I do care for you a great deal –”

“I care about you, too, Jon.”

“ – and I know you’re probably angry, and you’re perfectly justified in feeling that way –”

“I’m not mad at you.” He interrupted. Martin’s words finally hit Jon, then, and he reeled for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“You could be.” He said, and he saw Martin approach in his peripheral.

“Jon, I _promise_ I’m not angry with you.”

“Why not? I – I kept things from you. Lied to you.” He nearly whispered, and he heard Martin make an impatient sound as he took yet another step towards him.

“Well, sure, and it kind of sucked at the time, but it was strategic. And you’re talking now, just like you promised, so there’s nothing for me to be angry about.”

“Oh.” Jon didn’t know how to react to that. Martin wasn’t angry. He understood why Jon had been distant and uncommunicative and intentionally confusing, and he didn’t seem to care.

“Do you want me to be angry?” Martin asked, his voice as soft as ever, and tinged with something sad. Jon looked up at him in confusion.

“Of course not.” He said, and Martin smiled as their eyes met. Jon had yet to move at all, while Martin had already made his way across the room to him. When neither of them spoke for a moment, Martin took the last step necessary to reach the desk and stand beside Jon. 

Martin was very close to him now, but Jon was not inclined to alter that. His hand reached out, just a hair, and brushed Martin’s, who immediately flicked his finger out to hook onto Jon’s. That was… good. A good sign. He turned his hand around, hyper-aware of every sensation as they shifted until their hands were loosely clasped. His hand was a few shades darker and much smaller than Martin’s freckled one. Both their hands were soft, which was strange to Jon, as he had half-accepted his future scars to be a part of himself, and he was sometimes caught off-guard by the lack of burn marks present. Martin threaded his fingers through with Jon’s, ever so gently, and he realized with some anxiety that his were probably rather sweaty, though he didn’t try to impede Martin’s small movement. Jon was paying very close attention to their hands, not daring to look at Martin’s face; he could guess without looking that he was smiling softly, the way he did sometimes into open-air when he didn’t think anyone was watching him. His body felt slightly warm, and Jon knew he was unsteady on his feet. A breeze would likely make him sway.

Martin took a tentative step even closer, and Jon instinctively moved a step back, though he didn’t intend to separate them; he just knew that moving any closer would put them directly into each other’s space, and he wasn’t sure what would happen after that. Martin’s expression showed a flash of vulnerability, and Jon made sure to squeeze Martin’s hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

“What _do_ you want?” Martin asked quietly, and Jon felt a rush of warmth wash over him at the low timbre of his voice. It was a good question. He wanted to curl up in his flat and never face another human being again. He wanted to try to argue that he was dangerous and unlovable and boring and not worth Martin’s time. He wanted Martin to hold him close and never let go. Martin was extremely skilled at holding back from doing whatever it was he wanted unless it was exactly what they were already doing. He seemed to be holding his breath waiting for Jon’s response.

“You.” He said quietly, but Martin didn’t have any difficulty hearing him at his proximity. His eyes widened a bit, but he didn’t move apart from that. Jon was glad his blush wasn’t nearly as noticeable as Martin’s as he reflected on what he had let slip. Thankfully, Martin didn’t seem disturbed by his bold statement.

“More specifically?” He asked patiently, his voice pitching upward, watching Jon intently.

“I – uh, well, there’s no reason for me to stay away from you now, and I’d rather like to talk to you more, and – and spend time with you, but firstly… can you forgive me?” Jon asked quietly. There was no reason to speak up when they were already so close. Martin hummed.

“I already have.” He said quickly. “Anything else?”

“I suppose there’s one more thing…” He mumbled, and Martin simply raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “But… it can wait till later.” He finished, realizing that he was maybe getting ahead of himself, caught up in the small, quiet bubble they had created. He didn’t like to ask for things, and this was rather a lot to ask directly after his first attempt to repair their unarguably complicated relationship.

Martin seemed to realize himself as well at Jon’s words, taking in their closeness and their entwined fingers. His cheeks reddened a bit, but he didn’t back away as Jon half-expected him to.

“No, go on. Ask me now. I don’t mind.” He said immediately, words tumbling out of his mouth as soon as Jon had said the word ‘wait.’ His eyes were pleading, and Jon found that their eye contact was the better kind of tense.

“I want you to kiss me.” He breathed. He almost didn’t register if he had said the words, but Martin wasted no time then in ducking his head down closer, and Jon immediately tilted his head up to meet him, relief and amazement and nerves all mixing around within him. His thoughts were racing at that point, but they were momentarily stilled when Martin simply pressed his lips chastely to his forehead.

“How’s that?” He asked, and Jon thought he detected a tad of teasing in his tone.

“Not exactly what I had in mind.” He muttered, and Martin smirked at him.

“I’m sorry, did you want a proper kiss?” He asked in mock surprise. Jon huffed, startled. Was he _teasing_ him? Martin’s smile grew as Jon leaned forward a bit, and Jon wondered at his sudden confidence. He saw his unoccupied hand move up to gently nudge at his jaw, and he felt his stomach drop. Martin inched closer, tilting Jon’s face up to him as he gently connected their lips. Martin was so very warm, and Jon was nearly to the point of getting overwhelmed by his proximity, but the kiss felt so _right_. He wasn’t a huge fan of kissing, at least not for extended periods of time, but Martin was soft and dear, and this was something he could do to tell him everything he didn’t know how to put into words.

_I’m sorry. I missed you. I love you._

He knew he would say these things aloud more eloquently given the time, and they had all the time in the world for him to sort it all out, now. There was no desperation, no looming threat in the distance. Simply a new future that they had created laid out in front of them. Regrettably, Jon couldn’t see their new future, and he knew that facing the unknown was going to be a continuous struggle for him now, but his first foray with Martin had gone as well as it could have, so maybe this future wasn’t so scary as the other. It would be years until the fated end if it were even still possible for it to arrive, but till then he could just enjoy the feeling of being forgiven, which was now indistinguishable from being close to Martin.

Jon knew they wouldn’t be able to stay in the building much longer, and that they really should be leaving, but what were a few more minutes compared to the long history they would shortly be putting an end to? The Magnus Institute was usually fairly empty on the weekends, and no one had been required to come in after the owner was reported missing. They would have to appoint a new head of institute before things could return to normal, and Martin suggested putting an end to it before that could happen. Jon was comforted by knowing Gertrude would be pleased with their decision, as all the tapes he had recovered of hers from Jonah’s office had revealed her wishes for the place to go up in flames. Sasha hadn’t told Sarah exactly what use they had been planning for the explosives they had recovered, but she’d find out soon enough from the newspapers. He and Martin had already double-checked to make sure no one else was inside before setting things up in the basement. Jon had never dreamed of leaving a job with such fanfare, but it was certainly the most literal way to go out with a bang. Tim was the most pleased of the four of them with this decision, though it had been Martin’s idea.

Jon pulled back from Martin with a content sigh, resting his free hand on his shoulder.

“I think I’d like to do that again sometime.” He said quietly, and Martin smiled at him.

“We can arrange that.” He responded, and he took a single step back, allowing Jon room to move forward and take the arm he offered him. Jon was giddy as he did so, nearly forgetting his box of belongings in their dazed jaunt towards the exit. He had to run back to grab it unceremoniously, Martin chuckling at him as he rushed back over.

Jon was rather apprehensive about how their final departure would go, and every glance around the place imprinted itself in his memory – the last glances anyone would ever get within the historic building. He felt a twinge of guilt as they passed the library on their way to the lobby, but he knew the knowledge contained therein was better off forgotten. Stepping past the perimeter of the dormant building no longer carried the same relief that it used to, though Jon knew the place would become dangerous once again if left unchecked. It still housed the statements, and it still had the ability to bind them, or others, if a successor to Jonah appeared. It was still a temple to the Eye, even if it was currently without any followers.

His attention now firmly back to the task at hand, Jon passed the detonator to Martin after making sure there weren’t any passerby too close to them on the street.

“Would you like to do the honors?” He murmured, and Martin took the item from him reluctantly.

“I suppose.” He said, cradling it to his chest nervously. “I still wish Tim were here. I bet he’d love to do this part.” Martin said, and he eyed Jon as his finger grazed the button, unaware of how his words sent a spike of terror through him. He had made sure that it would just be he and Martin on this mission, as he was still nervous about Tim being near explosives. Thankfully, Tim hadn’t argued it for long, thinking it preferable to be with Sasha instead.

“Ready to run for it?” Martin asked, and Jon nodded, his heart pounding. This was it. The final thread they had to cut to be free from their lives of supernatural terror. He took Martin’s free hand in his own, refusing to force him to do it alone. None of them would have to be alone anymore, separated by secrets and lies. They were free to make their own decisions, including the unbelievable one they were about to make.

Jon took a single breath and braced himself.

“I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET'S GO JMART FANS


	31. Hope - Sasha

Sasha took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. She was curled up with Tim on her couch as he rubbed comforting circles on her back with his thumb. They were quiet now, all their energy for talking expended after many hours of dialogue. It had been good. Tim had complained and Sasha had listened, a cathartic experience for both of them before they switched, and Sasha ranted about her stress while Tim sympathized. It was almost normal, working through everything with Tim and leaning against him like old times.

Jon and Martin had visited earlier after their harrowing adventure. They both seemed rather jumpy, Jon more so than Martin, as they took turns animatedly telling their story, expressing their disbelief at the whole situation and much to Sasha’s discomfort, extending their stilted condolences for Cass. She hated how much the whole visit had felt like a funeral. They should all be ecstatic now, having the freedom to speak freely with each other again and start new lives away from the institute, which was now a smoking ruin, but Cass still lay unresponsive in the other room and Sasha wondered how much longer she could hold out hope before she’d have to admit they weren’t likely to wake up. They had been an integral piece to their plans, had helped them so immensely, but they weren’t able to celebrate with them. It wasn’t _fair_.

“You hungry?” Tim asked suddenly, breaking the contemplative silence that encouraged Sasha’s spiraling thoughts. She grunted noncommittally, and Tim shifted her up so he could see her face.

“Sorry, I’ll rephrase that. What would you most like to eat? Because I know you haven’t eaten all day, and you need something in your system.” Sasha sighed, smiling slightly at his insistence. She _was_ rather hungry, but all she wanted at the moment was Cass’s food, and she had already finished off the cinnamon rolls.

“I could go for some pizza.” She said instead, and Tim made a sound of support.

“That has multiple food groups. I approve.” He said, making her laugh. “I can call that place over by – ”

“Can we make our own?” She interrupted, and he looked at her blankly.

“Make our own what?”

“Pizza, Tim.”

“You want to complicate pizza? The easiest thing in the world to just buy and eat, and you want to purposefully make it take longer? You want a margin for error?” He asked, falsely incredulous.

“C’mon, it can’t be _that_ complicated. They sell pre-made dough. Plus, it could be fun. We can do it together.” Tim mulled it over and hemmed and hawed until Sasha knew he was just playfully dragging it out.

“Do you have the stuff for it here?” He asked hopefully, and she made a face.

“Ah… no.” Tim grimaced back at her.

“That’s what I thought. I get to go on a trip.” He said, already shifting to move out from under Sasha. She made a brief attempt to keep him on the couch.

“You don’t need to go shopping for me –” She started, but he jerked his head toward her bedroom, the open door revealing Cass’s still form lying on her bed.

“I don’t assume you want to leave them unsupervised in their current state, and no offense, but I wouldn’t know what to do if they woke up while I was here alone. I might still be a tad bit afraid of them.”

“There’s really no need to be –”

“Eh, you say that, but I still find it _extremely_ debatable. Errand-boy is my preferred duty, at the moment.” He explained, and Sasha sighed before scooting over so he could move and smiling at him.

“You’re the best. Officially.” She declared, and he raised his eyebrows as he stood.

“Officially, huh? What does that get me?” He asked, and she laughed.

“Bragging rights, mostly. Though I _could_ get you a shirt that says, ‘Sasha James’s Best Friend.’”

“Don’t even start. You know I would wear that unironically.” He said, grabbing his jacket. “My birthday is coming up, too.” He said, and she continued laughing.

“It would only work if I got a shirt that just read ‘Sasha James’ on it in huge letters and we walked around everywhere together.”

“I see no downside to this.” He said, still straight-faced. She watched him as he pulled on his shoes, her laughter slowly relenting.

“I really appreciate you.” She said as she leaned against the couch. He smiled kindly in response, knowing what it meant. She didn’t like to say, ‘I love you,’ even platonically, as it made her aromantic sensibilities nervous since they had already dealt with the whole ‘unrequited crush’ thing, but that didn’t stop her from attempting to wrangle the depth of affection she felt for Tim. She was grateful he understood. He always understood.

“I bet you do. Now just hang tight and I’ll be back with pizza _ingredients_ , rather than a whole, hot, ready-to-eat pizza.” He said, lingering around the door with a pointed look in her direction.

“Sounds great, can’t wait.” She said with a toothy smile, and he made a small face at her insistence.

“Alright, I tried. Text me if you need anything else.” He said, and she nodded as he headed out the door.

“Thank you!” She called after him.

The silence she was left in was all-encompassing. She watched the door after it closed for a moment before turning back towards the rest of her flat. She instinctively reached into her pocket to feel for the coin before remembering for the hundredth time that the trinket no longer held any type of power since Cass had fallen unconscious, or at least none that spoke to her. She rubbed it anyway, a nervous habit she wasn’t likely to be breaking in the foreseeable future; she knew that without any prophecies.

Slowly she got up and made her way towards her bedroom, hovering in the doorway as if her presence might disturb the figure within. Cass had been out for three days, ever since they fell after they had successfully trapped Jonah in the coffin. Sasha wasn’t a doctor by any means, but she knew that this sort of response was not likely to be rectified without any side effects. It would have seemed like a coma if they were still breathing, but as it was, it was only their moving eyes behind their eyelids that convinced Sasha that Cass wasn’t dead. Martin had been very vocal about his opinion that they should take them to a hospital, but Jon had agreed that sometimes supernatural things didn’t mesh well with the mundane, and they were more likely to confuse the doctors’ machines than help Cass in any way. Tim had been aggressively neutral about the whole thing, supporting Sasha and aiding her where he saw fit. Once he had discovered her reason for being so secretive and keeping him out of her flat he had been initially jealous in a way that both annoyed and endeared Sasha, but he was now much calmer after hearing her talk about them and their aspirations at length.

“You care about them, don’t you?” He had asked, and she sighed in frustration.

“I’m not in love with them Tim, so you can calm down about it.” He had put his hands up in a pacifying gesture.

“I know, geez, I just meant – you care about them. You care what happens to them. Like, more than you need to, is all.” Sasha dragged her hands over her face, thinking.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just – they’re the reason this all happened, you know? They were in the background, or, well, with me, here, but they’re the reason we’re all still alive.” She said, trying to explain.

“From what you told me you and Jon had pretty large parts to play in this as well,” Tim said. “I mean, you actually got to know what was going on the whole time.” He added, not able to remove all the bitterness from his voice.

“You’re right, but I’m not complaining about not feeling important enough, I’m talking about how they got what they planned for and they might not even be able to see the end result. It’s just kind of tragic.”

“Maybe that’s the price they have to pay. They were working for the entity of the end of all life on earth while they were going around saving lives. That’s pretty antithetical to like, their fundamental nature. That kind of betrayal probably has some pretty nasty effects on one's… everything, even if it _was_ warranted.” Sasha sighed.

“I just wish I could make it better.” She said, and he hummed in response.

“I’d say you’ve already made things a hell of a lot better than they could have been, according to Jon. He sure seems to think so, anyway.” He had said, and she nodded, trying to take it all in. They had won. The four of them were safe, as well as Melanie and Basira, and Jon had mentioned that plenty of others were better-off now as well, let alone the entire world. He was still able to see the future they had avoided, for some reason. She didn’t care, though. It was good. A good ending. Not perfect, but who could expect that?

Sasha sighed as the thoughts rolled over and through her, coming back to the present and sitting on the edge of her bed, scooping Cass’s hand into her own. If she focused hard enough, she could pretend they were merely sleeping. She suspected that they had fallen asleep on her couch before, despite their insistence that they couldn’t.

“Please don’t die.” She murmured, closing her eyes and letting the emptiness in the room buoy her thoughts. She was tense in her mind though her body was slumped. She wasn’t going to accept Cass’s fate as the others had. Her friends had all moved on already, not that they had gotten close to them as she had, but they had all moved on without any effort. It was rude, she thought, after all the wishing that Cass had done for things to go right for them, that they hadn’t even tried to return the favor. Sasha owed it to Cass to hold out some hope, even if it was just the slightest bit. That was all she had for them, now.

“Everyone dies eventually,” Sasha startled at the sudden voice, “But it is not my time, yet.” She thought she had imagined it, but upon opening her eyes, she saw Cass’s dark brown ones looking back up at her. She gaped for a moment before letting out a loud breath.

“You scared me! I was sure you were gone.” She breathed, her eyes widening as Cass stirred.

“ _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me._ ” Sasha puzzled slightly at their words, her hands at her sides feeling heavy and useless.

“Is that… are you religious?” She finally asked, and Cass merely laughed, a softer, more musical sound than their usual dark chuckle.

“Perhaps I once was. Perhaps I may be again.” They said, and Sasha smiled at the joy in their voice. She just sat there astounded for a moment, the paranoid part of her mind telling her this was all a dream. She snapped out of it when Cass attempted to push themselves up into a sitting position.

“Whoa, you should stay down.” She chided, her hands finally coming up to their shoulders to block further movement.

“I’m fine.” They said softly, but they did not push her hands away.

“Are you? Do you know what happened?” Sasha asked insistently. Cass smiled.

“I know I placed my trust in the right people.”

“Yeah?” Was all Sasha could say.

“Yes. You all managed to succeed where I had failed. For that, I must thank you.”

“Well, it would have been a large undertaking for one person.” She said.

“So I discovered. I have learned much in my short time with you.”

“Like what?”

“How to have hope.” Sasha blinked.

“I – really?” Cass nodded, shifting so that they finally sat upright.

“I feared having hope, but fear is what held me back.” They said, and they continued before Sasha could comment again, squeezing her hand. “You have given me hope for this world, and for myself.” They said, and Sasha made a soft noise as she saw their eyes welling with bright tears.

“Cass…” she said, but they were already moving to hold her, wrapping their arms around her shoulders tightly. They bent down slightly to rest their face next to Sasha’s, and she had to fight back her own tears that were threatening to fall. She let her hands glide gently against Cass’s back before drawing them tightly around their waist. She was strangely comfortable like this, the gentle sound of their breaths mingling the only noise. The realization that she could hear their breath in her ear made Sasha gasp.

“You’re breathing?” She asked, and Cass hummed against her neck.

“You once said that you owed me for avoiding your death. Your debt has been repaid in full.” They said, and Sasha laughed incredulously.

“You’re human!” She exclaimed, though she meant to ask it as a clarification.

“As human as I can be, now. I must be on borrowed time.”

“Do you – know that? Can you see anything…?” Sasha asked, wondering if this was going to be a goodbye rather than a reunion.

“I have lost my foresight, it seems. I doubt that our actions have saved the world from all possible threats, but I am no longer privy to them.” They said, but their expression displayed nothing but joy at the words.

“Well, I might have to find another life-threatening situation for you to save me from.” She said, and Cass’s expression sobered immensely.

“Excuse me?” They asked, dark eyes showing concern. Sasha smiled brightly at them, though her eyes stung.

“I need an excuse for you to stick around a while longer.” She tried to say casually, but the tightness in her chest made her words sound small and vulnerable. Cass’s gaze softened immeasurably.

“You don’t need an excuse. You wanting me here is reason enough for me to stay.” They said, placing their hands on either of Sasha’s shoulders.

“I do want you to stay,” She said quietly, and Cass nodded.

“Good.” They said, slowly dropping their hands from Sasha’s frame. “Because I have nowhere else to go if I leave your apartment.” Sasha laughed.

“I see how it is, you freeloader.” She tried to joke, and for a moment she was worried Cass didn’t understand before they smiled a real smile that touched their eyes, that beautiful deep brown that was so easy to get lost in, and despite Sasha’s lingering questions and fears, she knew that everything would be alright now. Her friends, old and new, were safe, she was alive, and she had a whole future to look forward to without seeing at it before it arrived. She could rest and be ignorant of any sign of doomsday on the horizon. It would take some getting used to, but it was better this way; she knew it was better.

Sasha jumped as her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she picked it up to see a text from Tim asking about what kind of toppings they wanted for their pizza. She let out a laugh at the impossibility of the situation. Cass stayed silent, though when Sasha looked up at them, they were watching her curiously.

“Do you like pizza?” She asked simply, and Cass shrugged.

“I’ve never tried it.” They said, and Sasha raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, my goodness. You have _so much_ living to do.” She said, already swiping to call Tim and tell him the good news, as well as ask him which topping was the most essential for a pizza-virgin, as he would likely call them. Her mind buzzed as she realized she should probably call Jon as well, invite him and Martin back over for an impromptu pizza party. Hell, they certainly deserved it. They had just saved the world, and now they were finally in for their happily ever after. She knew that things wouldn’t be perfect forever, but at that moment everyone Sasha cared about was okay, and that was more than enough for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END SCENE! 
> 
> I know the ending was kind of cheesy but I will accept nothing less than perfection and happiness for my fav characters. Thank you for reading and bearing with me on this (longer than expected) journey! <3 I will likely be going back through to edit grammar and spelling and any little inconsistencies, but that is likely it for this piece. 
> 
> All comments and critiques are welcomed. I hope you had fun reading and I am honored if you made it this far!


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